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The  Pilgrim’s  Progress 


e 


“ As  I slept,  I dreamed  a dream.” 


THE 


Pilgrims  Progress 

$vonx  thi$  |UorUt  to  that  mJticlt  io  to  come 


By  JOHN  BUNYAN 


WITH  ONE  HUNDRED  ILLUSTRATIONS 

By  FREDERICK  BARNARD  AND  OTHERS 

ENGRAVED  BY  D ADZ l EL  BROTHERS 


CHICAGO 


R.  S.  PEHLE  Sc  COMPANY 

M UCCCXC  V o 


6 fa  t 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


“ As  I slept,  I dreamed  a dream  ” ... 

“ I saw  a man  clothed  with  rags  ” ... 

Heading — The  City  of  Destruction 
“ He  brake  his  mind  to  his  wife  and  children  ” 

“ He  began  to  retire  himself  to  his  chamber  to  pray 
“ ‘ Do  you  see  yonder  wicket-gate  ? ’ ” . 

Obstinate  ; Pliable  ...... 


that  was  fa 


from  his  own  house 

Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman  ......... 

“ When  Christian  was  stepping  in,  the  other  gave  him  a pull  ” . 

“ Beelzebub  and  they  that  are  with  him  shoot  arrows  ” 

“ There  sat  a man  in  an  iron  cage  ” ...... 

“The  bottomless  pit  opened  just  wherabout  I stood  ” 

* His  burden  fell  off  his  back,  and  began  to  tumble” 

“Behold,  three  Shining  Ones  came  to  him,  and  saluted  him  ” 
Formalist ; Hypocrisy  ......... 

“ He  fell  from  running  to  going,  and  from  going  to  clambering  upon 
his  knees,  because  of  the  steepness  of  the  place  ” . 

“ He  stumbled  and  fell,  and  rose  no  more”  ..... 

“ He  at  last  fell  into  a slumber  ” 

Mistrust  ............ 


his 


land 


Timorous  ........... 

Watchful  the  Porter  ......... 

“The  lions  were  chained,  but  he  saw  not  the  chains” 

This  man  is  on  a journey  from  the  City  of  Destruction  to  Mount  Zion  ’ ” 
“Then  they  read  to  him  some  of  the  worthy  acts  that  some  of  1 1 is  servants 

done ” 

“Therefore  to  Him  let  me  give  lasting  praise  ” 

“ A company  of  fiends 

“ One  of  the  wicked  ones  got  behind  him,  and  whisperingly  suggested 
grievous  blasphemies  to  him  ” ........ 

“ He  can  now  do  little  more  than  sit  in  his  cave’s  mouth,  grinning  at  pilgrims 
“ He  could  not  rise  again  until  Faithful  came  up  to  help  him  ” . 

Discontent  ............. 

Pride  ; Arrogancy  ; Self-conceit ; Worldly-Glory 

“ A man  whose  name  is  Talkative  ” ........ 

“ At  the  town  there  is  a fair  kept,  called  Vanity  Fair  ” 

Cord  Hate-good 


thest^ 


and! 


had) 


A rtist.  Pagc- 

F.  Barnard — Frontispiece 


E.  F.  Brewtnall  . 2 

F.  Barnard  . . 3 

Townley  Green  . 5 

F.  Barnard  . . 7 

W. Small  . . 9 

F.  Barnard  . . 11 

W.  Small  . . 13 

F.  Barnard  . . 16 

Ditto  ...  23 

Ditto  ...  23 

E.  F.  Brewtnall  . 31 

F.  Barnard  . . 34 

Townley  Green  . 35 

E.  F.  Brewtnall  . 39 

F.  Barnard  . . 42 

E.  G.  Dalziel  . . 43 

F.  Barnard  . . 45 

Ditto  ...  43 

Ditto  ...  46 

Ditto  ...  47 

Ditto  ...  50 

J.  Wolf  ...  51 

J.  M‘L.  Ralston  . 55 

Ditto  ...  61 

F.  Barnard  . . 68 

Ditto  ...  70 

E.  G.  Dalziel  . . 71 

F.  Barnard  . . 74 

Townley  Green  . 77 

F Barnard  . . Si 

Ditto  ...  83 

Ditto  S7 

Ditto  ...  99 

Ditto  . . . 103 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


viii 


A rtist. 

The  Witnesses: — Envy,  Superstition,  Pickthank  .......  F.  Barnard 

The  Jury: — Mr.  Blind-man,  Mr.  No-good,  Mr.  Malice,  Mr.  Love-lust,  Mr.  Live- \ 

loose,  Mr.  Heady,  Mr.  Highmind,  Mr.  Enmity,  Mr.  Liar,  Mr.  Cruelty,  Mr.  V Ditto 
Hate-light,  and  Mr.  Implacable  .........  .) 

“They  burned  him  to  ashes  at  the  stake”  .........  Ditto 

“ There  was  one  whose  name  was  Hopeful,  who  joined  himself  unto  him  ” . . Townley  Green 

“ And  behold,  as  they  came  up  with  him,  he  made  them  a very  low  conge"  . . F.  Barnard 

“They  stood  looking  and  looking  upon  it,  but  could  not  tell  what  they  should  make! 

J ° o i > j r E.  G.  Dalziel  . 

thereof 

Vain-confidence  ..............  F.  Barnard 

Giant  Despair  ...............  Ditto 

“ So  they  continued  together  in  the  dark  that  day,  in  their  sad  and  doleful  condition  ” E.  G.  Dalziel  . 
Ignorance  ..............  F.  Barnard 

“ A man  whom  seven  devils  had  bound  Ditto 

“ So  they  came  up  all  to  him,  and  with  threatening  language  bid  him  stand  ” . . Ditto 

“Then  Atheist  fell  into  a very  great  laughter”  ........  Ditto 

“ He  said,  No,  for  I was  invited  to  come”  .........  Ditto 

“I  am  always  full  of  good  motions”  ..........  Ditto 

“Thus  they  got  over”  .............  F.  Barnard 

“Christian  brake  out  with  a loud  voice,  ‘Oh  ! I see  him  again’”  . . . . E.  G.  Dalziel  . 

One  of  the  King’s  Trumpeters F.  Barnard 

“Then  they  took  him  up,  and  carried  him  through  the  air  to  the  door  that  I saw  in)  _ _ 

J ° [-  E.  F.  Brewtnall 

the  side  of  the  hill,  and  put  him  in  there 

Tailpiece — The  Dreamer  awaking F.  Barnard 

Heading — Bunvan  in  Bedford  Jail  ..........  Ditto 

The  Author  and  Mr.  Sagacity  ...........  Ditto 

“ 1 Ier  thoughts  began  to  work  in  her  mind  ” ........  Ditto 

“Then  said  she  to  her  children,  ‘ Sons,  we  are  all  undone  ’ ” . . . E.  F.  Brewtnall 

Well,  I see  you  have  a mind  to  go  a-fooling  too’  ”.......  F.  Barnard 

Mrs.  Timorous’s  Neighbours: — Mrs.  Bat’s-eyes,  Mrs.  Inconsiderate,  Mrs.  Light- f Ditto 
mind,  and  Mrs.  Know-nothing  .........  J 

“‘Come,  let  us  venture,  only  let  us  be  wary’”  ........  Ditto 

The  King’s  Trumpeter  .............  J.  D.  Linton  . 

“ Mercy  was  fallen  down  without  in  a swoon  ” ........  J M'L.  Ralston, 

The  ill-favoured  ones  .............  F.  Barnard 

“So  Christiana’s  boys,  as  boys  are  apt  to  do,  being  pleased  with  the  trees,  and  the)  P ^ R 

/*  S—j  • r • D I\.  li,  1 A L L. 

fruit  that  did  hang  thereon,  did  plash  them  and  began  to  eat”  . . . .) 

Innocent  ................  F.  Barnard 

“ A man  that  could  look  no  way  but  downwards,  with  a muck-rake  in  his  hand  ” . Ditto  . . . 

Mr.  Great-heart  ..............  J.  D.  Linton 

Short-wind  ; No-heart  ; Sleepy-head  ..........  F Barnard 

Giant  Grim  ...............  Ditto 

“ I went  on  bemoaning  the  hardness  of  my  heart  Ditto 

“Then  she  began  at  the  youngest  whose  name  was  James  ” . . . . . E.  F.  Brewtnall 

Mr.  Brisk F.  Barnard 

Doctor  Skill  ...............  Ditto 

The  Shepherd  Boy  ..............  E.  F.  Brewtnall 

Heedless F.  Barnard 

Giant  Maul  ...............  Ditto 

Old  Honest  ...............  J.  D.  Linton  . 

“ He  stood  a good  while  before  he  would  adventure  to  knock  ” .....  F.  Barnard 

Self-will  ................  Ditto 

Gaius  ................  Ditto 

Taste-that-which-is-good  ............  Ditto 

“Mercy,  as  her  custom  was,  would  be  making  coats  and  garments  to  give  to  the)  £ p Brewtnall 
poor  ” . .^ 


Page. 

107 

I I I 

”4 

”9 

I27 

x33 

x37 

x45 

146 

x47 

x57 

i64 

167 

17S 

179 

182 

1S5 

1S7 

X9X 
201 
203 
203 
21 1 

213 

217 

219 

223 

226 

227 

232 

233 
243 
249 

255 

261 

263 

267 

271 

281 

2S7 

2$S 

29I 

295 

301 

304 

3«S 

3°9 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


IX 


Artist. 

Mercy  and  Matthew  . F.  Barnard 

“ Rather  than  we  will  part,  since  we  are  thus  happily  met,  I will  lend  thee  one  of  / 

my  crutches” ) 

Despondency  ...............  Ditto 

Much-afraid  Ditto 

Prejudice  ...............  Ditto 

111  will  ................  Ditto 

“ Evangelist  offered  to  lay  hands  on  him,  to  turn  him  into  the  way  again  ” . . Ditto 

Wild- head Ditto 

Valiant-for-truth  ..............  J.  D.  Linton  . 

“ She  still  followed  me  with  enticements  ” .........  F.  Barnard 

“ So  she  came  forth  and  entered  the  river  ” .........  E.  F.  Brewtnall 


Page. 

311 

317 

328 

329 

331 

332 
335 

338 

339 
349 
357 


THE 


AUTHOR’S  APOLOGY  FOR  HIS  BOOK. 


WHEN  at  the  first  I took  my  pen  in  hand 
Thus  for  to  write,  I did  not  understand 
That  I at  all  should  make  a little  book 
In  such  a mode  ; nay,  I had  undertook 
To  make  another  ; which  when  almost  done, 

Before  I was  aware,  I this  begun. 

And  thus  it  was  : I,  writing  of  the  way 
And  race  of  saints,  in  this  our  Gospel  day, 

Fell  suddenly  into  an  allegory 

About  their  journey,  and  the  way  to  glory, 

In  more  than  twenty  things  which  I set  down  : 
This  done,  I twenty  more  had  in  my  crown  ; 

And  they  again  began  to  multiply, 

Like  sparks  that  from  the  coals  of  fire  do  fly. 

Nay,  then,  thought  I,  if  that  you  breed  so  fast, 

I ’ll  put  you  by  yourselves,  lest  you  at  last 
Should  prove  ad  infinitum , and  eat  out 
The  book  that  I already  am  about. 

Well,  so  I did  ; but  yet  I did  not  think 
To  show  to  all  the  world  my  pen  and  ink 
In  such  a mode;  I only  thought  to  make 
I knew  not  what:  nor  did  I undertake 
Thereby  to  please  my  neighbour:  no,  not  I; 

I did  it  my  own  self  to  gratify. 

Neither  did  I but  vacant  seasons  spend 
In  this  my  scribble;  nor  did  I intend 
But  to  divert  myself  in  doing  this 
From  worser  thoughts  which  make  me  do  amiss. 
Thus  I set  pen  to  paper  with  delight, 

And  quickly  had  my  thoughts  in  black  and  white; 
For,  having  now  my  method  by  the  end, 

Still  as  I pulled,  it  came ; and  so  I penned 
It  down  ; until  it  came  at  last  to  be, 

For  length  and  breadth,  the  bigness  which  you  see. 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY  FOR  HIS  BOOK. 


xii 


Well,  when  I thus  had  put  mine  ends  together, 

I showed  them  others,  that  I might  see  whether 
They  would  condemn  them  or  them  justify: 

And  some  said,  “Let  them  live;”  some,  “Let  them  die;” 
Some  said,  “John,  print  it;”  others  said,  “Not  so;” 

Some  said,  “It  might  do  good;”  others  said,  “No.” 

Now  was  I in  a strait,  and  did  not  see 
Which  was  the  best  thing  to  be  done  by  me: 

At  last  I thought,  Since  ye  are  thus  divided, 

I print  it  will,  and  so  the  case  decided. 

For,  thought  I,  some,  I see,  would  have  it  done, 

Though  others  in  that  channel  do  not  run  : 

To  prove,  then,  who  advised  for  the  best, 

Thus  I thought  fit  to  put  it  to  the  test. 

I further  thought,  if  now  I did  deny 
Those  that  would  have  it,  these  to  gratify, 

I did  not  know  but  hinder  them  I might 
Of  that  which  would  to  them  be  great  delight. 

For  those  which  were  not  for  its  coming  forth, 

I said  to  them,  Offend  you  I am  loth ; 

“ Yet,  since  your  brethren  pleased  with  it  be, 

.Forbear  to  judge  till  you  do  further  see. 

If  that  thou  wilt  not  read,  let  it  alone: 

Some  love  the  meat,  some  love  to  pick  the  bone. 

Yea,  that  I might  them  better  palliate, 

I did  too  with  them  thus  expostulate: — 

“May  I not  write  in  such  a style  as  this? 

In  such  a method,  too,  and  yet  not  miss 
My  end — thy  good?  Why  may  it  not  be  done? 

Dark  clouds  bring  waters,  when  the  bright  bring  none. 
Yea,  dark  or  bright,  if  they  their  silver  drops 
Cause  to  descend,  the  earth,  by  yielding  crops, 

Gives  praise  to  both,  and  carpeth  not  at  either, 

But  treasures  up  the  fruit  they  yield  together; 

Yea,  so  commixes  both,  that  in  their  fruit 
None  can  distinguish  this  from  that:  they  suit 
Her  well  when  hungry;  but,  if  she  be  full, 

She  spews  out  both,  and  makes  their  blessings  null. 

You  see  the  ways  the  fisherman  doth  take 
To  catch  the  fish;  what  engines  doth  he  make! 

Behold  how  he  engageth  all  his  wits; 

Also  his  snares,  lines,  angles,  hooks  and  nets : 


THE  AUTHORS  APOLOGY  FOR  HIS  BOOK. 


xiii 


Yet  fish  there  be  that  neither  hook,  nor  line, 

Nor  snare,  nor  net,  nor  engine  can  make  thine: 

They  must  be  groped  for,  and  be  tickled  too, 

Or  they  will  not  be  catched,  whate’er  you  do. 

How  does  the  fowler  seek  to  catch  his  game 
By  divers  means!  all  which  one  cannot  name: 

His  guns,  his  nets,  his  lime-twigs,  light,  and  bell; 

He  creeps,  he  goes,  he  stands;  yea,  who  can  tell 
Of  all  his  postures?  Yet  there’s  none  of  these 
Will  make  him  master  of  what  fowls  he  please. 

Yea,  he  must  pipe  and  whistle  to  catch  this ; 

Yet,  if  he  does  so,  that  bird  he  will  miss. 

If  that  a pearl  may  in  a toad’s  head  dwell, 

And  may  be  found  too  in  an  oyster-shell ; 

If  things  that  promise  nothing  do  contain 
What  better  is  than  gold ; who  will  disdain, 

That  have  an  inkling  of  it,  there  to  look, 

That  they  may  find  it?  Now,  my  little  book 
(Though  void  of  all  these  paintings  that  may  make 
It  with  this  or  the  other  man  to  take) 

Is  not  without  those  things  that  do  excel 
What  do  in  brave  but  empty  notions  dwell.” 

Well,  yet  I am  not  fully  satisfied 

That  this  your  book  will  stand,  when  soundly  tried.” 

Why,  what’s  the  matter?  “It  is  dark.”  What  though? 
But  it  is  feigned.”  What  of  that?  I trow 
Some  men,  by  feigned  words,  as  dark  as  mine 
Make  truth  to  spangle  and  its  rays  to  shine. 

But  they  want  solidness.”  Speak,  man,  thy  mind. 

They  drown  the  weak  ; metaphors  make  us  blind.” 

Solidity,  indeed,  becomes  the  pen 
Of  him  that  writeth  things  divine  to  men; 

But  must  I needs  want  solidness,  because 
By  metaphors  I speak?  Were  not  God’s  laws, 

His  Gospel  laws,  in  olden  time  held  forth 
By  types,  shadows,  and  metaphors?  Yet  loth 
Will  any  sober  man  be  to  find  fault 
With  them,  lest  he  be  found  for  to  assault 
The  highest  wisdom.  No,  he  rather  stoops, 

And  seeks  to  find  out  by  what  pins  and  loops, 

By  calves  and  sheep,  by  heifers  and  by  rams, 

By  birds  and  herbs,  and  by  the  blood  of  lambs, 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY  FOR  HIS  BOOK. 


God  speaketh  to  him ; and  happy  is  he 

That  finds  the  light  and  grace  that  in  them  be. 

Be  not  too  forward,  therefore,  to  conclude 
That  I want  solidness— that  I am  rude : 

All  things  solid  in  show  not  solid  be; 

All  things  in  parables  despise  not  we ; 

Lest  things  most  hurtful  lightly  we  receive, 

And  things  that  good  are,  of  our  souls  bereave. 

My  dark  and  cloudy  words,  they  do  but  hold 
The  truth,  as  cabinets  enclose  the  gold. 

The  prophets  used  much  by  metaphors 
To  set  forth  truth;  yea,  whoso  considers 
Christ,  His  apostles  too,  shall  plainly  see 
That  truths  to  this  day  in  such  mantles  be. 

Am  I afraid  to  say  that  Holy  Writ, 

Which  for  its  style  and  phrase  puts  down  all  wit, 

Is  everywhere  so  full  of  all  these  things — 

Dark  figures,  allegories?  Yet  there  springs 
From  that  same  Book,  that  lustre,  and  those  rays 
Of  light,  that  turn  our  darkest  nights  to  days. 

Come,  let  my  carper  to  his  life  now  look, 

And  find  there  darker  lines  than  in  my  book 

He  findeth  any;  yea,  and  let  him  know 

That  in  his  best  things  there  are  worse  lines  too. 

May  we  but  stand  before  impartial  men, 

To  his  poor  one  I durst  adventure  ten 
That  they  will  take  my  meaning  in  these  lines 
Far  better  than  his  lies  in  silver  shrines. 

Come,  truth,  although  in  swaddling  clouts,  I find, 
Informs  the  judgment,  rectifies  the  mind  ; 

Pleases  the  understanding;  makes  the  will 
Submit ; the  memory  also  it  doth  fill 
With  what  doth  our  imagination  please; 

Likewise  it  tends  our  troubles  to  appease. 

Sound  words,  I know,  Timothy  is  to  use, 

And  old  wives’  fables  he  is  to  refuse; 

But  yet  grave  Paul  him  nowhere  doth  forbid 

The  use  of  parables;  in  which  lay  hid 

That  gold,  those  pearls,  and  precious  stones,  that  were 

Worth  digging  for,  and  that  with  greatest  care. 

Let  me  add  one  word  more.  O man  of  God, 

Art  thou  offended?  Dost  thou  wish  I had 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY  FOR  HIS  BOOK. 


xv 


Put  forth  my  matter  in  another  dress? 

Or  that  I had  in  things  been  more  express? 

Three  things  let  me  propound ; then  I submit 
To  those  that  are  my  betters,  as  is  fit. 

1.  I find  not  that  I am  denied  the  use 
Of  this  my  method,  so  I no  abuse 

Put  on  the  words,  things,  readers;  or  be  rude 
In  handling  figure  or  similitude, 

In  application  ; but,  all  that  I may, 

Seek  the  advance  of  truth  this  or  that  way. 

Denied,  did  I say?  Nay,  I have  leave 
(Example  too,  and  that  from  them  that  have 
God  better  pleased,  by  their  words  or  ways, 

Than  any  man  that  breatheth  now-a-days) 

Thus  to  express  my  mind,  thus  to  declare 
Things  unto  thee  that  excellentest  are. 

2.  I find  that  men  as  high  as  trees  will  write 
Dialogue-wise  ; yet  no  man  doth  them  slight 
For  writing  so;  indeed,  if  they  abuse 

Truth,  cursed  be  they,  and  the  craft  they  use 
To  that  intent;  but  yet  let  truth  be  free 
To  make  her  sallies  upon  thee  and  me 
Which  way  it  pleases  God ; for  who  knows  how 
Better  than  He  who  taught  us  first  to  plough, 

To  guide  our  minds  and  pens  for  His  design? 

And  He  makes  base  things  usher  in  divine. 

3.  I find  that  Holy  Writ  in  many  places 
Hath  semblance  with  this  method,  where  the  cases 
Do  call  for  one  thing,  to  set  forth  another. 

Use  it  I may,  then,  and  yet  nothing  smother 
Truth’s  golden  beams:  nay,  by  this  method  may 
Make  it  cast  forth  its  rays  as  light  as  day. 

And  now,  before  I do  put  up  my  pen, 

I’ll  show  the  profit  of  my  book,  and  then 

Commit  both  thee  and  it  unto  that  Hand 

That  pulls  the  strong  down,  and  makes  weak  ones  stand. 

This  book  it  chalketh  out  before  thine  eyes 
The  man  that  seeks  the  everlasting  prize; 

It  shows  you  whence  lie  comes,  whither  he  goes; 

What  he  leaves  undone,  also  what  he  does; 

It  also  shows  you  how  he  runs  and  runs 
Till  he  unto  the  gate  of  glory  comes. 


XVI 


THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGY  FOR  HIS  BOOK. 


It  shows,  too,  who  set  out  for  life  amain, 

As  if  the  lasting  crown  they  would  obtain; 

Here  also  you  may  see  the  reason  why 
They  lose  their  labour,  and  like  fools  do  die. 

This  book  will  make  a traveller  of  thee, 

If  by  its  counsels  thou  wilt  ruled  be: 

It  will  direct  thee  to  the  Holy  Land, 

If  thou  wilt  its  directions  understand: 

Yea,  it  will  make  the  slothful  active  be; 

The  blind  also  delightful  things  to  see. 

Art  thou  for  something  rare  and  profitable? 

Or  wouldst  thou  see  a truth  within  a fable? 

Art  thou  forgetful?  Or  wouldst  thou  remember 
From  New  Year’s  Day  to  the  last  of  December? 

Then  read  my  fancies:  they  will  stick  like  burrs, 

And  may  be,  to  the  helpless,  comforters. 

This  book  was  writ  in  such  a dialect 
As  may  the  minds  of  listless  men  affect : 

It  seems  a novelty,  and  yet  contains 
Nothing  but  sound  and  honest  Gospel  strains. 

Wouldst  thou  divert  thyself  from  melancholy? 
Wouldst  thou  be  pleasant,  yet  be  far  from  folly? 
Wouldst  thou  read  riddles  and  their  explanation? 

Or  else  be  drowned  in  thy  contemplation? 

Dost  thou  love  picking  meat  ? Or  wouldst  thou  see 
A man  i’  the  clouds,  and  hear  him  speak  to  thee? 
Wouldst  thou  be  in  a dream,  and  yet  not  sleep? 

Or  wouldst  thou  in  a moment  laugh  and  weep? 
Wouldst  thou  lose  thyself,  and  catch  no  harm? 

And  find  thyself  again  without  a charm? 

Wouldst  read  thyself,  and  read  thou  know’st  not  what, 
And  yet  know  whether  thou  art  blest  or  not, 

By  reading  the  same  lines?  Oh,  then  come  hither, 

And  lay  my  book,  thy  head,  and  heart  together. 


The  Pilgrims  Progress 

part  i 


“ I saw  a man  clothed  with  rags.” 


AS  I walked  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world,  I lighted  on  a certain 
place  where  was  a den,  and  laid  me  down  in  that  place  to  sleep ; and, 
as  I slept,  I dreamed  a dream.  I dreamed,  and  behold,  I saw  a man 
clothed  with  rags,  standing  in  a certain  place,  with  his  face  from  his  own 
house,  a book  in  his  hand,  and  a great  burden  upon  his  back.  (Isa.  lxiv.  b; 
Luke  xiv.  33;  Ps.  xxxviii.  4.)  I looked,  and  saw  him  open  the  book,  and 
read  therein;  and,  as  he  read,  he  wept  and  trembled;  and,  not  being  able 
longer  to  contain,  he  brake  out  with  a lamentable  cry,  saying,  “What 
shall  I do?”  (Acts  ii.  37;  xvi.  30;  Heb.  ii.  2,  3.) 

In  this  plight,  therefore,  he  went  home,  and  restrained  himself  as  long  as 
he  could,  that  his  wife  and  children  should  not  perceive  his  distress;  but  he 
could  not  be  silent  long,  because  that  his  trouble  increased.  Wherefore  at 
length  he  brake  his  mind  to  his  wife  and  children;  and  thus  he  began  to 
talk  to  them:  “O  my  dear  wife,”  said  he,  “and  you  the  children  of  my 
bowels,  I,  your  dear  friend,  am  in  myself  undone  by  reason  of  a burden 
that  lieth  hard  upon  me;  moreover,  I am  certainly  informed  that  this  our 
city  will  be  burned  with  fire  from  heaven;  in  which  fearful 
overthrow,  both  myself,  with  thee,  my  wife,  and  you,  my  This  world, 
sweet  babes,  shall  miserably  come  to  ruin,  except  (the  which 
yet  I see  not)  some  way  of  escape  can  be  found  whereby  we  may  be 
delivered.”  At  this  his  relations  were  sore  amazed;  not  for  that  they 
believed  that  what  he  had  said  to  them  was  true,  but  because  they  thought 
that  some  frenzy  distemper  had  got  into  his  head;  therefore,  it  drawing 
towards  night,  and  they  hoping  that  sleep  might  settle  his  brains,  with  all 
haste  they  got  him  to  bed.  But  the  night  was  as  troublesome  to  him  as 
the  day;  wherefore,  instead  of  sleeping,  he  spent  it  in  sighs  and  tears. 


4 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Carnal 
physic  for  a 
sick  soul. 


So  when  the  morning  was  come,  they  would  know  how  he  did.  He  told 
them,  Worse  and  worse;  he  also  set  to  talking  to  them  again;  but  they 
began  to  be  hardened.  They  also  thought  to  drive  away  his  distemper  by 
harsh  and  surly  carriage  to  him:  sometimes  they  would  deride,  sometimes 
they  would  chide,  and  sometimes  they  would  quite  neglect  him.  Wherefore 
he  began  to  retire  himself  to  his  chamber,  to  pray  for  and  pity 
them,  and  also  to  condole  his  own  misery;  he  would  also  walk 
solitary  in  the  fields,  sometimes  reading,  and  sometimes 
praying;  and  thus  for  some  days  he  spent  his  time. 

Now,  I saw,  upon  a time,  when  he  was  walking  in  the  fields,  that  he 
was  (as  he  was  wont)  reading  in  his  book,  and  greatly  distressed  in  his 
mind;  and  as  he  read,  he  burst  out  as  he  had  done  before,  crying,  “What 
shall  I do  to  be  saved?”  (Acts  xvi.  30,  31.) 

I saw  also  that  he  looked  this  way  and  that  way,  as  if  he  would  run; 
yet  he  stood  still,  because  (as  I perceived)  he  could  not  tell  which  way  to 
go.  I looked  then,  and  saw  a man  named  Evangelist  coming  to  him,  who 
asked,  “Wherefore  dost  thou  cry?” 

He  answered,  “Sir,  I perceive  by  the  book  in  my  hand,  that  I am 
condemned  to  die,  and  after  that  to  come  to  judgment  (Heb.  ix.  27);  and 
I find  that  I am  not  willing  to  do  the  first  (Job  xvi.  21,  22),  nor  able  to  do 
the  second.”  (Ezek.  xxii.  14.) 

Then  said  Evangelist,  “Why  not  willing  to  die,  since  this  life  is  attended 
with  so  many  evils?”  The  man  answered,  “Because  I fear  that  this  burden 
that  is  upon  my  back  will  sink  me  lower  than  the  grave,  and  I shall  fall 
into  Tophet.  (Isa.  xxx.  33.)  And,  sir,  if  I be  not  fit  to  go  to  prison,  I am 
not  fit  to  go  to  judgment,  and  from  thence  to  execution;  and  the  thoughts 
of  these  things  make  me  cry.” 

Then  said  Evangelist,  “If  this  be  thy  condition,  why  standest  thou  still?” 
He  answered,  “Because  I know  not  whither  to  go.”  Then 
he  gave  him  a parchment  roll,  and  there  was  written  within, 
“Elee  from  the  wrath  to  come.”  (Matt.  iii.  7.) 

The  man,  therefore,  read  it,  and,  looking  upon  Evangelist 
very  carefully,  said,  “Whither  must  I fly?”  Then  said  Evan- 
gelist (pointing  with  his  finger  over  a very  wide  field),  “Do  you  see  yonder 
wicket-gate?”  (Matt.  vii.  13,  14.)  The  man  said,  “No.”  Then  said  the 
other,  “Do  you  see  yonder  shining  light?”  (Psa.  cxix.  105;  II.  Pet.  1.  19.) 
He  said,  “I  think  I do.”  Then  said  Evangelist,  “Keep  that  light  in  your 


Conviction 
of  the 
necessity  of 
(teeing-. 


"He  brake  his  mind  to  his  wife  and  children." 


CHRISTIAN'S  DISTRESS  OF  MIND. 


7 


eye,  and  go  up  directly  thereto : so  shalt  thou  see  the  gate ; at  which  when 
thou  knockest,  it  shall  be  told  thee  what  thou  shalt  do.”  So  I 
saw  in  my  dream  that  the  man  began  to  run.  Now,  he  had  Christ  and 
not  run  far  from  his  own  door,  when  his  wife  and  children  inm" cannot 
perceiving  it,  began  to  cry  after  him  to  return;  but  the  man  be  found 
put  his  fingers  in  his  ears,  and  ran  on,  crying,  “Life!  life!  won! 
eternal  life!”  (Luke  xiv.  26.)  So  he  looked  not  behind  him 
(Gen.  xix.  17),  but  fled  towards  the  middle  of  the  plain. 

The  neighbours  also  came  out  to  see  him  run  (Jer.  xx.  10) ; and  as  he  ran, 
some  mocked,  others  threatened,  and  some  cried  after  him  to  return ; and 
among  those  that  did  so  there  were  two 
that  resolved  to  fetch  him  back  by  force. 

The  name  of  the  one  was  Obstinate,  and 
the  name  of  the  other  Pli- 
able. Now,  by  this  time  the  They  that 

, , • flee  from  the 

man  was  got  a good  dis-  wrath  to 
tance  from  them;  but,  how-  come  are  a 
ever,  they  were  resolved  to  L,  WOrld. 
pursue  him,  which  they  did, 
and  in  a little  time  they  overtook  him. 

Then  said  the  man,  “Neighbours,  where- 
fore are  ye  come?”  They  said,  “To 
persuade  you  to  go  back  with  us.”  But 
he  said,  “That  can  by  no  means  be:  you 
dwell,”  said  he,  “in  the  City  of  Destruc- 
tion, the  place  also  where  I was  born: 

the  grave,  into  a place  that  burns  with 
fire  and  brimstone.  Be  content,  good 
neighbours,  and  go  along  with  me.” 

Obst.  “What!”  said  Obstinate,  “and  leave  our  friends  and  comforts 
behind  us?” 

Chris.  “Yes,”  said  Christian  (for  that  was  his  name),  “because  that 
all  which  you  forsake  is  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  a little  of 
that  I am  seeking  to  enjoy  (II.  Cor.  iv.  18);  and  if  you  would  go 
along  with  me,  and  hold  it,  you  shall  fare  as  I myself;  for  there,  where 


I see  it  to  be  so;  and,  dying  there, 
sooner  or  later,  vou  will  sink  lower  than 


■•He  began  to  retire  himself  to  his  chamber  to  pray.” 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


I go,  is  enough  and  to  spare.  (Luke  xv.  27.)  Come  away,  and  prove 
my  words.” 

Obst.  What  are  the  things  you  seek,  since  you  leave  all  the  world  to 
find  them? 

Chris.  I seek  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not 
away  (I.  Pet.  i.  4),  and  it  is  laid  up  in  heaven,  and  safe  there  (Heb.  xi.  16), 
to  be  bestowed,  at  the  time  appointed,  on  them  that  diligently  seek  it. 
Read  it  so,  if  you  will,  in  my  book. 

Obst.  “Tush!”  said  Obstinate,  “away  with  your  book:  will  you  go  back 
with  us  or  no ! ” 

Chris.  “No,  not  I,”  said  the  other,  “because  I have  put  my  hand  to  the 
plough.”  (Luke  ix.  62.) 

Obst.  Come,  then,  neighbour  Pliable,  let  us  turn  again,  and  go  home 
without  him:  there  is  a company  of  these  crazy-headed  coxcombs,  that, 
when  they  take  a fancy  by  the  end,  are  wiser  in  their  own  eyes  than  seven 
men  that  can  render  a reason.  * 

Pli.  Then  said  Pliable,  “Don’t  revile;  if  what  the  good  Christian  says  is 
true,  the  things  he  looks  after  are  better  than  ours;  my  heart  inclines  to  go 
with  my  neighbour.” 

Obst.  What!  more  fools  still?  Be  ruled  by  me,  and  go  back;  who 
knows  whither  such  a brain-sick  fellow  will  lead  you?  Go  back,  go  back, 
and  be  wise. 

Chris.  Nay,  but  do  thou  come  with  thy  neighbour  Pliable;  there  are 
such  things  to  be  had  which  I spoke  of,  and  many  more  glories  besides. 
If  you  believe  not  me,  read  here  in  this  book;  and  for  the  truth  of  what  is 
expressed  therein,  behold,  all  is  confirmed  by  the  blood  of  Him  that  made 
it.  (Heb.  ix.  17-21.) 

Pli.  “Well,  neighbour  Obstinate,”  said  Pliable,  “I  begin  to  come  to  a 
point;  I intend  to  go  along  with  this  good  man,  and  to  cast  in  my  lot  with 
him.  But,  my  good  companion,  do  you  know  the  way  to  this  desired  place?” 

Chris.  I am  directed  by  a man,  whose  name  is  Evangelist,  to  speed  me 
to  a little  gate  that  is  before  us,  where  we  shall  receive  instructions  about 
the  way. 

Pli.  Come,  then,  good  neighbour,  let  us  be  going. 

Then  they  went  both  together. 

“And  I will  go  back  to  my  place,”  said  Obstinate;  “I  will  be  no  com- 
panion of  such  misled,  fantastical  fellows.” 


“Do  you  see  yonder  wicket  gate?” 


CHRISTIAN  DISCOURSES  WITH  PLIABLE. 


Now,  I saw  in  my  dream,  that,  when 
Obstinate  was  gone  back,  Christian  and 
Pliable  went  talking  over  the  plain;  and 
thus  they  began  their  discourse: 

Chris.  Come,  neighbour  Pliable,  how 
do  you  do?  I am  glad  you  are  per- 
suaded to  go  along  with  me.  Had  even 
Obstinate  himself  but  felt  what  I have 
felt  of  the  powers  and  terrors  of  what  is 
yet  unseen,  he  would  not  thus  lightly 
have  given  us  the  back. 

Pli.  Come,  neighbour  Christian,  since 
there  are  none  but  us  two  here,  tell  me 
now  further  what  the  things  are,  and  how 
to  be  enjoyed,  whither  we  are  going. 

Chris.  I can  better  conceive  of  them 
with  my  mind  than  speak  of  them  with 
my  tongue;  but  yet,  since  qol1's  tl ; 
you  are  desirous  to  know,  I unspeakable. 

will  read  of  them  in  my  book. 

Pli.  And  do  you  think  that  the  words  of 
your  book  are  certainly  true? 

Chris.  Yes,  verily;  for  it  was  made  by  Him 
that  cannot  lie.  (Tit.  i.  2.) 

Pli.  Well  said;  what  things  are  they? 

Chris.  There  is  an  endless  kingdom  to  be 
inhabited,  and  everlasting  life  to  be  given  us, 
that  we  may  inhabit  that  kingdom  for  ever. 

(Isa.  lxv.  17;  John  x.  27 — 29.) 

Pli.  Well  said;  and  what  else? 

Chris.  There  are  crowns  of  glory  to  be 
given  us,  and  garments  that  will  make  us  shine 
like  the  sun  in  the  firmament  of  heaven.  (II. 

Tim.  iv.  8;  Rev.  xxii.  5;  Matt.  xiii.  43.) 

Pli.  This  is  very  pleasant;  and  what 
else? 

Chris.  There  shall  be  no  more  crying,  nor 


PLIABLE. 


12 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


sorrow;  for  He  that  is  owner  of  the  place  will  wipe  all  tears  from  our  eyes. 
(Isa.  xxv.  8;  Rev.  vii.  16,  17;  xxi.  4.) 

Pli.  And  what  company  shall  we  have  there? 

Chris.  There  we  shall  be  with  seraphims  and  cherubims  (Isa.  vi.  2;  I. 
Thess.  iv.  16,  17;  Rev.  v.  11),  creatures  that  shall  dazzle  your  eyes  to  look 
on  them.  There  also  you  shall  meet  with  thousands  and  ten  thousands 
that  have  gone  before  us  to  that  place;  none  of  them  are  hurtful,  but  [all] 
loving  and  holy;  every  one  walking  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  standing  in 
His  presence  with  acceptance  for  ever.  In  a word,  there  we  shall  see  the 
elders  with  their  golden  crowns  (Rev.  iv.  4);  there  we  shall  see  the  holy 
virgins  with  their  golden  harps  (Rev.  xiv.  1 — 5);  there  we  shall  see  men 
that  by  the  world  were  cut  in  pieces,  burnt  in  flames,  eaten  of  beasts, 
drowned  in  the  seas,  for  the  love  they  bare  to  the  Lord  of  the  place  (John 
xii.  25),  all  well,  and  clothed  with  immortality  as  with  a garment.  (II.  Cor. 
v.  2—4.) 

Pli.  The  hearing  of  this  is  enough  to  ravish  one’s  heart.  But  are  these 
things  to  be  enjoyed?  How  shall  we  get  to  be  sharers  thereof? 

Chris.  The  Lord,  the  Governor  of  the  country,  hath  recorded  that  in  this 
book  (Isa.  Iv.  1,  2;  John  vi.  37;  vii.  37;  Rev.  xxi.  6;  xxii.  17);  the  substance 
of  which  is,  If  we  be  truly  willing  to  have  it,  He  will  bestow  it  upon  us 
freely. 

Pli.  Well,  my  good  companion,  glad  am  I to  hear  of  these  things;  come 
on,  let  us  mend  our  pace. 

Chris.  I cannot  go  so  fast  as  I would,  by  reason  of  this  burden  that  is 
on  my  back. 

Now,  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  just  as  they  had  ended  this  talk,  they  drew 
nigh  to  a very  miry  slough,  that  was  in  the  midst  of  the  plain ; and  they, 
being  heedless,  did  both  fall  suddenly  into  the  bog.  The  name  of  the 
slough  was  Despond.  Here,  therefore,  they  wallowed  for  a time,  being 
grievously  bedaubed  with  the  dirt;  and  Christian,  because  of  the  burden 
that  was  on  his  back,  began  to  sink  into  the  mire. 

Pli.  Then  said  Pliable,  “Ah!  neighbour  Christian,  where  are  you 
now?” 

Chris.  “Truly,”  said  Christian,  “I  do  not  know.” 

Pli.  At  this  Pliable  began  to  be  offended,  and  angrily  said  to  his  fellow, 
“Is  this  the  happiness  you  have  told  me  all  this  while  of?  If  we  have  such 
ill  speed  at  our  first  setting  out,  what  may  we  expect  between  this  and  our 


"Christian  still  endeavoured  to  struggle  to  that  side  of  the  slough  that  was  farthest  from  his  own  house." 


CHRISTIAN  RESCUED  FROM  THE  SLOUGH  BY  HELP. 


15 


journey’s  end?  May  I get  out  again  with  my  life,  you  shall  possess  the 
brave  country  alone  for  me.”  And  with  that,  he  gave  a des- 
perate struggle  or  two,  and  got  out  of  the  mire  on  that  side  of  ( 

the  slough  which  was  next  to  his  own  house:  so  away  he  went,  piiabfe. 
and  Christian  saw  him  no  more. 

Wherefore  Christian  was  left  to  tumble  in  the  Slough  of  Despond  alone; 
but  still  he  endeavoured  to  struggle  to  that  side  of  the  slough  which  was 
farthest  from  his  own  house,  and  next  to  the  wicket-gate;  the  which  he  did, 
but  could  not  get  out  because  of  the  burden  that  was  upon  his  back;  but  I 
beheld  in  my  dream,  that  a man  came  to  him  whose  name  was  Help,  and 
asked  him,  What  he  did  there? 

Chris.  “Sir,”  said  Christian,  “I  was  bid  to  go  this  way  by  a man  called 
Evangelist,  who  directe  d me  also  to  yonder  gate,  that  I might 
escape  the  wrath  to  come;  and  as  I was  going  there  I fell  The  promises, 
in  here.” 

H elp.  But  why  did  you  not  look  for  the  steps? 

Chris.  Fear  followed  me  so  hard,  that  I fled  the  next  way,  and  fell  in. 

Help.  Then  said  he,  “Give  me  thine  hand.”  So  he  gave  him  his  hand, 
and  he  drew  him  out  (Psa.  xl.  2),  and  set  him  upon  sound  ground,  and  bid 
him  go  on  his  way. 

Then  I stepped  to  him  that  plucked  him  out,  and  said,  “Sir,  wherefore, 
since  over  this  place  is  the  way  from  the  City  of  Destruction  to  yonder  gate, 
is  it  that  this  plat  is  not  mended,  that  poor  travellers  might  go  thither  with 
more  security?”  And  he  said  unto  me,  “This  miry  slough  is  such  a place 
as  cannot  be  mended;  it  is  the  descent  whither  the  scum  and  filth  that 
attend  conviction  for  sin  do  continually  run,  and  therefore  it  is  called  the 
Slough  of  Despond;  for  still,  as  the  sinner  is  awakened  by  his  lost 
condition,  there  arise  in  his  soul  many  fears,  and  doubts,  and  discouraging 
apprehensions,  which  all  of  them  get  together,  and  settle  in  this  place;  and 
this  is  the  reason  of  the  badness  of  the  ground. 

“It  is  not  the  pleasure  of  the  King  that  this  place  should  remain  so  bad. 
(Isa.  xxxv.  3,  4.)  His  labourers  also  have,  by  the  direction  of  1 1 is 
Majesty’s  surveyors,  been  for  about  these  sixteen  hundred  years  employed 
about  this  patch  of  ground,  if  perhaps  it  might  have  been  mended;  yea, 
and  to  my  knowledge,”  said  he,  “here  have  been  swallowed  up  at  least 
twenty  thousand  cart-loads,  yea,  millions,  of  wholesome  instructions,  that 
have  at  all  seasons  been  brought  from  all  places  of  the  King’s  dominions 


i6 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


The  promise 
of  forgiveness 
and  accept- 
ance to  life 
by  faith  in 
Christ. 


(and  they  that  can  tell  say  they  are  the  best  materials  to  make  good  ground 
of  the  place),  if  so  be  it  might  have  been  mended ; but  it  is  the  Slough  of 
Despond  still,  and  so  will  be  when  they  have  done  what  they  can. 

“True,  there  are,  by  the  direction  of  the  Law-giver,  certain  good  and 
substantial  steps,  placed  even  through  the  very  midst  of  this 
slough;  but  at  such  time  as  this  place  doth  much  spew  out  its 
filth,  as  it  doth  against  change  of  weather,  these  steps  are 
hardly  seen;  or,  if  they  be,  men,  through  the  dizziness  of  their 
heads,  step  aside,  and  then  they  are  bemired  to  purpose, 
notwithstanding  the  steps  be  there;  but  the  ground  is  good 
when  they  are  got  in  at  the  gate.”  (I.  Sam.  xii.  23.) 

Now,  I saw  in  my  dream, 
that  by  this  time  Pliable  was 
got  home  to  his  house.  So 
his  neighbours  came  to  visit 
him  ; and  some  of  them  called 
him  wise  man  for  coming 
back,  and  some  called  him  a 
fool  for  hazarding  himself 
with  Christian;  others  again 
did  mock  at  his  cowardliness, 
saying,  “Surely  since  you 
began  to  venture,  I would 
not  have  been  so  base  to  have 
given  out  for  a few  difficul- 
ties;” so  Pliable  sat  sneaking 
among  them.  But  at  last  he 
got  more  confidence ; and 
then  they  all  turned  their 
tales,  and  began  to  deride 
poor  Christian  behind  his  back.  And  thus  much  concerning  Pliable. 

Now,  as  Christian  was  walking  solitary  by  himself,  he  espied  one  afar  off 
come  crossing  over  the  field  to  meet  him ; and  their  hap  was  to  meet  just 
as  they  were  crossing  the  way  of  each  other.  The  gentleman’s  name  that 
met  him  was  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman : he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Carnal 
Policy,  a very  great  town,  and  also  hard  by  from  whence  Christian  came. 
This  man,  then,  meeting  with  Christian,  and  having  some  inkling  of  him — 


MR.  WORLDLY  WISEMAN. 


WORLDLY  WISEMAN'S  COUNSEL. 


1 7 


(for  Christian’s  setting  forth  from  the  City  of  Destruction  was  much  noised 
abroad,  not  only  in  the  town  where  he  dwelt,  but  also  it  began  to  be  the 
town-talk  in  some  other  places) — Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman,  therefore,  having 
some  guess  of  him,  by  beholding  his  laborious  going,  by  observing  his 
sighs  and  groans,  and  the  like,  began  thus  to  enter  into  some  talk  with 
Christian : 

World.  How  now,  good  fellow!  whither  away  after  this  burdened 
manner  ? 

Chris.  A burdened  manner  indeed,  as  ever  I think  poor  creature  had ! 
And  whereas  you  ask  me,  Whither  away  ? I tell  you,  sir,  I am  going  to 
yonder  wicket-gate  before  me;  for  there,  as  I am  informed,  I shall  be  put 
into  a way  to  be  rid  of  my  heavy  burden. 

World.  Hast  thou  a wife  and  children  ? 

Chris.  Yes ; but  I am  so  laden  with  this  burden,  that  I cannot  take  that 
pleasure  in  them  as  formerly;  methinks  I am  as  if  I had  none.  (I.  Cor. 
vii.  29.) 

World.  Wilt  thou  hearken  to  me,  if  I give  thee  counsel  ? 

Chris.  If  it  b o.  good,  I will;  for  I stand  in  need  of  good  counsel. 

World.  I would  advise  thee,  then,  that  thou  with  all  speed  get  thyself 
rid  of  thy  burden ; for  thou  wilt  never  be  settled  in  thy  mind  till  then ; nor 
canst  thou  enjoy  the  blessings  which  God  hath  bestowed  upon  thee  till 
then. 

Chris.  That  is  that  which  I seek  for,  even  to  be  rid  of  this  heavy 
burden;  but  get  it  off  myself  I cannot;  nor  is  there  any  man  in  our 
country  that  can  take  it  off  my  shoulders;  therefore  am  I going  this  way, 
as  I told  you,  that  I may  be  rid  of  my  burden. 

World.  Who  bid  thee  go  this  way  to  be  rid  of  thy  burden  ? 

Chris.  A man  that  appeared  to  me  to  be  a very  great  and  honourable 
person ; his  name,  as  I remember,  is  Evangelist. 

World.  I beshrew  him  for  his  counsel ! there  is  not  a more  dangerous 
and  troublesome  way  in  the  world  than  is  that  into  which  he  hath  directed 
thee ; and  that  thou  shalt  find,  if  thou  wilt  be  ruled  by  his  counsel.  Thou 
hast  met  with  something,  as  I perceive,  already;  for  I see  the  dirt  of  the 
Slough  of  Despond  is  upon  thee;  but  that  slough  is  the  beginning  of  the 
sorrows  that  do  attend  those  that  go  on  in  that  way.  Hear  me:  I am  older 
than  thou : thou  art  like  to  meet  with,  in  the  way  which  thou  goest, 
wearisomeness,  painfulness,  hunger,  perils,  nakedness,  sword,  lions,  dragons, 


i8 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


darkness,  and,  in  a word,  death,  and  what  not.  These  things  are  certainly 
true,  having  been  confirmed  by  many  testimonies.  And  why  should  a man 
so  carelessly  cast  away  himself,  by  giving  heed  to  a stranger? 

Chris.  Why,  sir,  this  burden  upon  my  back  is  more  terrible  to  me  than 
all  these  things  which  you  have  mentioned ; nay,  methinks  I care  not  what 
I meet  with  in  the  way,  if  so  be  I can  also  meet  with  deliverance  from  my 
burden. 

World.  How  earnest  thou  by  the  burden  at  first? 

Chris.  By  reading  this  book  in  my  hand. 

World.  I thought  so.  And  it  has  happened  unto  thee  as  unto  other 
weak  men,  who,  meddling  with  things  too  high  for  them,  do  suddenly  fall 
into  thy  distractions ; which  distractions  do  not  only  unman  men,  as  thine 
I perceive  have  done  thee,  but  they  run  them  upon  desperate  ventures,  to 
obtain  they  know  not  what. 

Chris.  I know  what  I would  obtain ; it  is  ease  for  my  heavy  burden. 

World.  But  why  wilt  thou  seek  for  ease  this  way,  seeing  so  many 
dangers  attend  it?  Especially  since  (hadst  thou  but  patience  to  hear  me), 
I could  direct  thee  to  the  obtaining  of  what  thou  desirest,  without  the 
dangers  that  thou  in  this  way  wilt  run  thyself  into.  Yea,  and  the  remedy 
is  at  hand.  Besides,  I will  add  that,  instead  of  those  dangers,  thou  shalt 
meet  with  much  safety,  friendship,  and  content. 

Chris.  Sir,  I pray,  open  this  secret  to  me. 

World.  Why,  in  yonder  village  (the  village  is  named  Morality),  there 
dwells  a gentleman  whose  name  is  Legality,  a very  judicious  man,  and  a 
man  of  very  good  name,  that  has  skill  to  help  men  off  with  such  burdens 
as  thine  is  from  their  shoulders;  yea,  to  my  knowledge  he  hath 
done  a great  deal  of  good  this  way;  aye,  and  besides,  he  hath 
skill  to  cure  those  that  are  somewhat  crazed  in  their  wits  with 
. their  burdens.  To  him,  as  I said,  thou  mayest  go,  and  be 
helped  presently.  His  house  is  not  quite  a mile  from  this 
place;  and  if  he  should  not  be  at  home  himself,  he  hath  a pretty  young 
man  to  his  son,  whose  name  is  Civility,  that  can  do  it  (to  speak  on)  as  well 
as  the  old  gentleman  himself.  There,  I say,  thou  mayest  be  eased  of  thy 
burden;  and  if  thou  art  not  minded  to  go  back  to  thy  former  habitation  (as 


He  prefers 
morality 
before  the 
strait  gate. 


indeed  I would  not  wish  thee),  thou  mayest  send  for  thy  wife  and  children 
to  thee  in  this  village,  where  there  are  houses  now  standing  empty,  one  of 
which  thou  mayest  have  at  a reasonable  rate;  provision  is  there  also  cheap 


CHRISTIAN  ADMONISHED  BY  EVANGELIST. 


!9 


and  good;  and  that  which  will  make  thy  life  the  more  happy  is,  to  be  sure 
there  thou  shalt  live  by  honest  neighbours,  in  credit  and  good  fashion. 

Now  was  Christian  somewhat  at  a stand;  but  presently  he  concluded, 
“If  this  be  true  which  this  gentleman  hath  said,  my  wisest  course  is  to  take 
his  advice;”  and,  with  that,  he  thus  further  spake: 

Chris.  Sir,  which  is  my  way  to  this  honest  man’s  house? 

World.  Do  you  see  yonder  high  hill? 

Chris.  Yes,  very  well. 

World.  By  that  hill  you  must  go,  and  the  first  house  you  come 
at  is  his. 

So  Christian  turned  out  of  his  way  to  go  to  Mr.  Legality’s  house  for 
help;  but,  behold,  when  he  was  get  now  hard  by  the  hill,  it  seemed  so  high, 
and  also  that  side  of  it  that  was  next  the  wayside  did  hang  so  much  over, 
that  Christian  was  afraid  to  venture  farther,  lest  the  hill  should 
fall  on  his  head ; wherefore  there  he  stood  still,  and  wotted  not  Mount  Sinai, 
what  to  do.  Also  his  burden  now  seemed  heavier  to  him  than 
while  he  was  in  his  way.  There  came  also  flashes  of  fire  (Exod.  xix.  1 6, 
18)  out  of  the  hill,  that  made  Christian  afraid  that  he  should  be  burnt: 
here,  therefore,  he  sweat  and  did  quake  for  fear.  (Heb.  xii.  21.)  And  now 
he  began  to  be  sorry  that  he  had  taken  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman’s  counsel ; 
and  with  that,  he  saw  Evangelist  coming  to  meet  him,  at  the  sight  also  of 
whom  he  began  to  blush  for  shame.  So  Evangelist  drew  nearer  and 
nearer;  and,  coming  up  to  him,  he  looked  upon  him  with  a severe  and 
dreadful  countenance,  and  thus  began  to  reason  with  Christian: 

Evan.  “What  dost  thou  here,  Christian?”  said  he;  at  which  words 
Christian  knew  not  what  to  answer;  wherefore  at  present  he  stood  speech- 
less before  him.  Then  said  Evangelist  further,  “Art  thou  not  the  man  that 
I found  crying  without  the  walls  of  the  City  of  Destruction?” 

Chris.  Yes,  dear  sir,  I am  the  man. 

Evan.  Did  not  I direct  thee  the  way  to  the  little  wicket-gate? 

Chris.  “Yes,  dear  sir,”  said  Christian. 

Evan.  How  is  it,  then,  that  thou  art  so  quickly  turned  aside?  For  thou 
art  now  out  of  the  way. 

Chris.  I met  with  a gentleman  as  soon  as  I had  got  over  the  Slough  of 
Despond,  who  persuaded  me  that  I might,  in  the  village  before  me,  find  a 
man  that  could  take  off  my  burden. 

Evan.  What  was  he  ? 


20 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Chris.  He  looked  like  a gentleman,  and  talked  much  to  me,  and  got  me 
at  last  to  yield:  so  I came  hither,  but  when  I beheld  this  hill,  and  how  it 
hangs  over  the  way,  I suddenly  made  a stand,  lest  it  should  fall  on 
my  head. 

Evan.  What  said  that  gentleman  to  you  ? 

Chris.  Why,  he  asked  me  whither  I was  going,  and  I told  him. 

Evan.  And  what  said  he  then? 

Chris.  He  asked  me  if  I had  a family,  and  I told  him.  But,  said  I,  I 
am  so  laden  with  the  burden  that  is  on  my  back,  that  I cannot  take  pleasure 
in  them  as  formerly. 

Evan.  And  what  said  he  then  ? 

Chris.  He  bid  me  with  speed  get  rid  of  my  burden;  and  I told  him  it 
was  ease  that  I sought.  And,  said  I,  I am  therefore  going  to  yonder  gate 
to  receive  further  direction  how  I may  get  to  the  place  of  deliverance.  So 
he  said  that  he  would  show  me  a better  way,  and  short,  not  so  attended 
with  difficulties  as  the  way,  sir,  that  you  sent  me  in;  which  way,  said  he, 
will  direct  you  to  a gentleman’s  house  that  hath  skill  to  take  off  these 
burdens.  So  I believed  him,  and  turned  out  of  that  way  into  this,  if  haply 
I might  soon  be  eased  of  my  burden.  But,  when  I came  to  this  place,  and 
beheld  things  as  they  are,  I stopped  for  fear  (as  I said)  of  danger;  but  I 
now  know  not  what  to  do. 

Evan.  Then  said  Evangelist,  “Stand  still  a little,  that  I may  show  thee 
the  words  of  God.”  So  he  stood  trembling.  Then  said  Evangelist,  “See 
that  ye  refuse  not  him  that  speaketh;  for  if  they  escaped  not  who  refused 
Him  that  spake  on  earth,  much  more  shall  not  we  escape,  if  we  turn  away 
from  Him  that  speaketh  from  heaven.”  (Heb.  xii.  25.)  He  said,  more- 
over, “Now,  the  just  shall  live  by  faith;  but  if  any  man  draw  back,  my  soul 
shall  have  no  pleasure  in  him.”  (Heb.  x.  38.)  He  also  did  thus  apply 
them:  “Thou  art  the  man  that  art  running  into  misery;  thou  hast  begun 
to  reject  the  counsel  of  the  Most  High,  and  to  draw  back  thy  foot  from  the 
way  of  peace,  even  almost  to  the  hazarding  of  thy  perdition.” 

Then  Christian  fell  down  at  his  feet  as  dead,  crying,  “Woe  is  me,  for  I 
am  undone!”  At  the  sight  of  which  Evangelist  caught  him  by  the  right 
hand,  saying,  “All  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemies  shall  be  forgiven  unto 
men.”  (Matt.  xii.  31.)  “Be  not  faithless,  but  believing.”  (John  xx.  27.) 
Then  did  Christian  again  a little  revive,  and  stood  up  trembling,  as  at  first, 
before  Evangelist. 


EVANGELIST  REPROVES  CHRISTIAN. 


21 


Then  Evangelist  proceeded,  saying,  “Give  more  earnest  heed  to  the 
things  that  I shall  tell  thee  of.  I will  now  show  thee  who  it  was  that 
deluded  thee,  and  who  it  was  also  to  whom  he  sent  thee.  That  man  that 
met  thee  is  one  Worldly  Wiseman;  and  rightly  is  he  so  called;  partly 
because  he  savoureth  only  of  the  doctrine  of  this  world  (John  iv.  5), 
(therefore  he  always  goes  to  the  town  of  Morality  to  church),  and  partly 
because  he  loveth  that  doctrine  best,  for  it  saveth  him  from  the  Cross  (Gal. 
vi.  12);  and  because  he  is  of  this  carnal  temper,  therefore  he  seeketh  to 
pervert  my  ways,  though  right.  Now  there  are  three  things  in  this  man’s 
counsel  that  you  must  utterly  abhor: 

“ 1.  His  turning  thee  out  of  the  way. 

“2.  His  labouring  to  render  the  Cross  odious  to  thee. 

“3.  And  his  setting  thy  feet  in  that  way  that  leadeth  unto  the  adminis- 
tration of  death. 

“First, — Thou  must  abhor  his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way;  yea,  and 
thine  own  consenting  thereto;  because  this  is  to  reject  the  counsel  of  God 
for  the'  sake  of  the  counsel  of  a Worldly  Wiseman.  The  Lord  says, 
‘Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  s-trait  gate’  (Luke  xiii.  24),  the  gate  to  which  I 
send  thee;  ‘for  strait  is  the  gate  which  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be 
that  find  it.’  (Matt.  vii.  13,  14.)  From  this  little  wicket-gate,  and  from  the 
way  thereto,  hath  this  wicked  man  turned  thee,  to  the  bringing  of  thee 
almost  to  destruction;  hate,  therefore,  his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way,  and 
abhor  thyself  for  hearkening  to  him. 

“Secondly, — Thou  must  abhor  his  labouring  to  render  the  Cross  odious 
unto  thee;  for  thou  art  to  prefer  it  before  the  treasures  of  Egypt.  (Heb. 
xi.  25,  26.)  Besides,  the  King  of  Glory  hath  told  thee  that  he  that  will 
save  his  life  shall  lose  it;  and  he  that  comes  after  Him,  and  hates  not  his 
father,  and  mother,  and  wife,  and  children,  and  brethren,  and  sisters,  yea, 
and  his  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  His  disciple.  (Mark  viii.  35;  John  xii. 
25;  Matt.  x.  39;  Luke  xiv.  26.)  I say,  therefore,  for  man  to  labour  to 
persuade  thee  that  that  shall  be  thy  death,  without  which  the  Truth  hath 
said  thou  canst  not  have  eternal  life,  this  doctrine  thou  must  abhor. 

“Thirdly, — Thou  must  hate  his  setting  of  thy  feet  in  the  way  that  leadeth  to 
the  ministration  of  death.  And  for  this  thou  must  consider  to  whom  he  sent 
thee,  and  also  how  unable  that  person  was  to  deliver  thee  from  thy  burden. 

“ He  to  whom  thou  wast  sent  for  ease,  being  by  name  Legality,  is  the  son 
of  the  bondwoman  which  now  is.  and  is  in  bondage  with  her  children  (Gal. 


22 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


iv.  21 — 27);  and  is  in  a mystery  this  Mount  Sinai,  which  thou  hast  feared 
will  fall  on  thy  head.  Now,  if  she  with  her  children  is  in  bondage,  how 
canst  thou  expect  by  them  to  be  made  free?  This  Legality,  therefore,  is 
not  able  to  set  thee  free  from  thy  burden.  No  man  was  as  yet  ever  rid  of 
his  burden  by  him;  no,  nor  ever  is  like  to  be;  ye  cannot  be  justified  by  the 
works  of  the  law;  for  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  man  living  can  be  rid  of 
his  burden.  Therefore,  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman  is  an  alien,  and  Mr. 
Legality  is  a cheat;  and,  for  his  son  Civility,  notwithstanding  his  simpering 
looks,  he  is  but  an  hypocrite,  and  cannot  help  thee.  Believe  me,  there  is 
nothing  in  all  this  noise  that  thou  hast  heard  of  these  sottish  men,  but  a 
design  to  beguile  thee  of  thy  salvation,  by  turning  thee  from  the  way  in 
which  I had  set  thee.”  After  this,  Evangelist  called  aloud  to  the  heavens 
for  confirmation  of  what  he  had  said;  and  with  that  there  came  words  and 
fire  out  of  the  mountain  under  which  poor  Christian  stood,  which  made  the 
hair  of  his  flesh  stand  up.  The  words  were  thus  pronounced:  “As  many 
as  are  of  the  works  of  the  law  are  under  the  curse;  for  it  is  written,  Cursed 
is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  which  are  written  in  the  book 
of  the  law  to  do  them.”  (Gal.  iii.  10.) 

Now,  Christian  looked  for  nothing  but  death,  and  began  to  cry  out 
lamentably;  even  cursing  the  time  in  which  he  met  with  Mr.  Worldly 
Wiseman;  still  calling  himself  a thousand  fools  for  hearkening  to  his 
counsel.  He  also  was  greatly  ashamed  to  think  that  this  gentleman's 
arguments,  flowing  only  from  the  flesh,  should  have  the  prevalency  with 
him  so  far  as  to  cause  him  to  forsake  the  right  way.  This  done,  he  applied 
himself  again  to  Evangelist,  in  words  and  sense  as  follows: 

Chris.  Sir;  what  think  you?  Is  there  any  hope?  May  I now  go  back, 
and  go  up  to  the  wicket-gate?  Shall  I not  be  abandoned  for  this,  and  sent 
back  from  thence  ashamed  ? I am  sorry  I have  hearkened  to  this  man's 
counsel;  but  may  my  sins  be  forgiven? 

Evan.  Then  said  Evangelist  to  him,  “Thy  sin  is  very  great,  for  by  it 
thou  hast  committed  two  evils:  thou  hast  forsaken  the  way  that  is  good,  to 
tread  in  forbidden  paths.  Yet  will  the  man  at  the  gate  receive  thee,  tor  he 
has  good  will  for  men;  only,”  said  he,  “take  heed  that  thou  turn  not  aside 
again,  lest  thou  perish  from  the  way,  when  his  wrath  is  kindled  but  a 
little.”  (Psa.  ii.  12.)  Then  did  Christian  address  himself  to  go  back;  and 
Evangelist,  after  he  had  kissed  him,  gave  him  one  smile,  and  bid  him  God 
speed ; so  he  went  on  with  haste,  neither  spake  he  to  any  man  by  the  way; 


CHRISTIAN  MEETS  GOODWILL. 


23 


nor,  if  any  asked  him,  would  he  vouch- 
safe them  an  answer.  He  went  like  one 
that  was  all  the  while  treading  on  for- 
bidden ground,  and  could  by  no  means 
think  himself  safe,  till  again  he  was  got 
in  the  way  which  he  had  left  to  follow 
Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman’s  counsel:  so,  in 
process  of  time,  Christian  got  up  to  the 
gate.  Now,  over  the  gate  there  was 
written,  “Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened 
unto  you.”  (Matt.  vii.  7.) 

He  knocked,  therefore,  more  than 
once  or  twice,  saying, 


“May  I now  enter  here?  Will  He  within 
Open  to  sorry  me,  though  I have  been 
An  undeserving  rebel?  Then  shall  I 
’ Not  fail  to  sing  His  lasting  praise  on  high.” 


When  Christian  was  stepping  in,  the  other  gave 
him  a pull.’' 


At  last  there  came  a grave  person  to 
the  gate  named  Goodwill,  who  asked 
who  was  there,  and  whence  he  came, 
and  what  he  would  have? 

Chris.  Here  is  a poor  burdened  sin- 
ner. I come  from  the  City  of  Destruc- 
tion, but  am  going  to  Mount  Zion,  that 
I may  be  delivered  from  the  wrath  to 
come;  I would  therefore,  sir,  since  I am 
informed  that  by  this  gate  is  the  way 
thither,  know  if  you  are  willing  to  let 
me  in. 

Good.  “I  am  willing  with  all  my 
heart,”  said  he;  and,  with  ™ . ... 

1 he  gate  will 

that,  he  opened  the  gate.  be  opened 

So,  when  Christian  was  |°  bl‘oken" 

hearted 

stepping  in,  the  other  gave  sinners. 


■'Beelzebub  and  they  that  are  with  him  shoot  arrows.” 


24 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


him  a pull. 


Satan  envies 
those  that 
enter  the 
strait  gate. 


Chris. 

Good. 

Chris. 

Good. 

Chris. 


Then  said  Christian,  “What  means  that?”  The  other  told 
him,  “A  little  distance  from  this  gate  there  is  erected  a strong- 
castle,  of  which  Beelzebub  is  the  captain;  from  whence  both  he 
and  they  that  are  with  him  shoot  arrows  at  those  that  come  up 
to  this  gate,  if  haply  they  may  die  before  they  can  enter  in.” 
Then  said  Christian,  “ I rejoice  and  tremble.”  So  when  he  was 
got  in,  the  man  of  the  gate  asked  him  who  directed  him  thither. 

Chris.  Evangelist  bid  me  come  hither  and  knock,  as  I did ; and  he  said 
that  you,  sir,  would  tell  me  what  I must  do. 

Good.  An  open  door  is  set  before  thee,  and  no  man  can  shut  it. 

Now  I begin  to  reap  the  benefit  of  my  hazards. 

But  how  is  it  that  you  came  alone? 

Because  none  of  my  neighbours  saw  their  danger,  as  I saw  mine. 
Did  any  of  them  know  you  were  coming? 

Yes,  my  wife  and  children  saw  me  at  the  first,  and  called  after 
me  to  turn  again;  also  some  of  my  neighbours  stood  crying  and  calling 
after  me  to  return;  but  I put  my  fingers  in  my  ears,  and  so  came  on  my 
way. 

Good.  But  did  none  of  them  follow  you,  to  persuade  you  to  go 
back  ? 

Chris.  Yes,  both  Obstinate  and  Pliable;  but,  when  they  saw  that  they 
could  not  prevail,  Obstinate  went  railing  back,  but  Pliable  came  with  me  a 
little  way. 

But  why  did  he  not  come  through? 

We  indeed  came  both  together  until  we  came  to  the  Slough  of 
Despond,  into  the  which  we  also  suddenly  fell.  And  then  was 
my  neighbour  Pliable  discouraged,  and  would  not  venture 
farther.  Wherefore,  getting  out  again  on  the  side  next  his 
own  house,  he  told  me  I should  possess  the  brave  country 
alone  for  him:  so  he  went  his  way,  and  I came  mine;  he  after 
Obstinate,  and  I to  this  gate. 

Good.  Then  said  Goodwill,  “Alas,  poor  man ! is  the  celestial 
glory  of  so  little  esteem  with  him,  that  he  counteth  it  not  worth  running 
the  hazard  of  a few  difficulties  to  obtain  it?” 

Chris.  “Truly,”  said  Christian,  “I  have  said  the  truth  of  Pliable;  and,  if 
I should  also  say  the  truth  of  myself,  it  will  appear  there  is  no  betterment 
betwixt  him  and  myself.  ’T  is  true,  he  went  on  back  to  his  own  house; 


Good. 

Chris. 


A man  may 
have  com- 
pany when 
he  sets  out 
for  heaven, 
and  yet  go 
thither  alone. 


GOODWILL  POINTS  OUT  THE  WAV. 


25 


but  I also  turned  aside  to  go  into  the  way  of  death,  being  persuaded 
thereto  by  the  carnal  argument  of  one  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman.” 

Good.  Oh!  did  he  light  upon  you?  What!  he  would  have  had  you  seek 
for  ease  at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Legality!  They  are  both  of  them  a very 
cheat.  But  did  you  take  his  counsel  ? 

Chris.  Yes,  as  far  as  I durst.  I went  to  find  out  Mr.  Legality,  until  I 
thought  that  the  mountain  that  stands  by  his  house  would  have  fallen  upon 
my  head:  wherefore  there  I was  forced  to  stop. 

Good.  That  mountain  has  been  the  death  of  many,  and  will  be  the 
death  of  many  more;  it  is  well  you  escaped  being  by  it  dashed  in 
pieces. 

Chris.  Why,  truly,  I do  not  know  what  had  become  of  me  there,  had 
not  Evangelist  happily  met  me  again  as  I was  musing  in  the  midst  of  my 
dumps;  but  it  was  God’s  mercy  that  he  came  to  me  again,  for  else  I had 
never  come  hither.  But  now  I am  come,  such  a one  as  I am,  more  fit 
indeed  for  death  by  that  mountain,  than  thus  to  stand  talking  with  my 
Lord.  But,  oh!  what  a favour  this  is  to  me,  that  yet  I am  admitted  entrance 
here ! 


Good.  We  make  no  objections  against  any,  notwithstanding  all  that  they 
have  done  before  they  come  hither;  they  in  no  wise  are  cast  out.  (John  vi. 
37.)  And  therefore,  good  Christian,  come  a little  with  me,  and  I will  teach 
thee  about  the  way  thou  must  go.  Look  before  thee:  dost  thou  see  this 
narrow  way?  That  is  the  way  thou  must  go.  It  was  cast  up  by  the 
patriarchs,  prophets,  Christ  and  His  apostles,  and  it  is  as  strait  as  a rule 
can  make  it:  this  is  the  way  thou  must  go. 

Chris.  “But,'  said  Christian,  “are  there  no  turnings  nor  Christian 
windings  by  which  a stranger  may  lose  his  way?  jng  way 

Good.  Yes,  there  are  many  ways  butt  down  upon  this,  and 
they  are  crooked  and  wide;  but  thus  thou  mayest  distinguish  the  right  from 
the  wrong,  the  right  only  being  strait  and  narrow.  (Matt.  vii.  14.) 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  asked  him  further  if  he  could 
not  help  him  off  with  his  burden  that  was  upon  his  back.  For 
as  yet  he  had  not  got  rid  thereof,  nor  could  he  by  any  means  Christian 
get  it  off  without  help.  burden.^  *'1S 

He  told  him,  “ As  to  thy  burden,  be  content  to  bear  it  until 
thou  comest  to  the  place  of  deliverance;  for  there  it  will  fall  from  thy  back 
of  itself. 


26 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


There  is  no 
deliverance 
from  the  guilt 
and  burden  of 
sin,  but  by 
the  death 
and  blood 
of  Christ. 


Chris. 


Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to  address  himself  to  his 
journey. 

So  the  other  told  him  that  by  that  he  was  gone  some 
distance  from  the  gate,  he  would  come  at  the  house  of  the 
Interpreter,  at  whose  door  he  should  knock,  and  he  would 
show  him  excellent  things.  Then  Christian  took  his  leave  of 
his  friend,  and  he  again  bid  him  God  speed. 

Then  he  went  on  till  he  came  to  the  house  of  the  Inter- 
preter, where  he  knocked  over  and  over.  At  last  one  came  to 
the  door,  and  asked  who  was  there. 

Sir,  here  is  a traveller  who  was  bid  by  an  acquaintance  of  the 
good  man  of  this  house  to  call  here  for  his  profit;  I would  therefore  speak 
with  the  master  of  the  house. 

So  he  called  for  the  master  of  the  house,  who,  after  a little  time,  came  to 
Christian,  and  asked  him  what  he  would  have. 

Chris.  “Sir,”  said  Christian,  “I  am  a man  that  am  come  from  the  City 
of  Destruction,  and  am  going  to  Mount  Zion;  and  I was  told  by  the  man 
that  stands  at  the  gate  at  the  head  of  this  way,- that,  if  I called  here,  you 
would  show  me  excellent  things,  such  as  would  be  helpful  to  me  on  my 
journey.” 

Inter.  Then  said  the  Interpreter,  “Come  in;  I will  show  thee  that  which 
will  be  profitable  to  thee.”  So  he  commanded  his  man  to  light 
illumination,  the  candle,  and  bid  Christian  follow  him;  so  he  had  him  into  a 
entertained  private  room,  and  bid  his  man  open  a door;  the  which  when  he 
had  done,  Christian  saw  the  picture  of  a very  grave  person 
hung  up  against  the  wall;  and  this  was  the  fashion  of  it:  it  had  eyes  lifted 
up  to  heaven,  the  best  of  books  in  its  hand,  the  law  of  truth  was  written 
upon  its  lips,  the  world  was  behind  its  back;  it  stood  as  if  it  pleaded  with 
men,  and  a crown  of  gold  did  hang  over  its  head. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian,  “What  meaneth  this?” 

Inter.  The  man  whose  picture  this  is,  is  one  of  a thousand.  He  can 
say,  in  the  words  of  the  apostle,  “Though  ye  have  ten  thousand  instructors 
in  Christ,  yet  have  you  not  many  fathers;  for  in  Christ  Jesus  I have 
begotten  you  through  the  Gospel.  My  little  children,  of  whom  I travail  in 
birth  again  until  Christ  be  formed  in  you.”  (I.  Cor.  iv.  15;  Gal.  iv.  19.) 
And  whereas  thou  seest  him  with  his  eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven,  the  best  of 
books  in  his  hand,  and  the  law  of  truth  writ  on  his  lips,  it  is  to  show  thee 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE. 


27 


that  his  work  is  to  know  and  unfold  dark  things  to  sinners;  even  as  also 
thou  seest  him  stand  as  if  he  pleaded  with  men.  And  whereas  thou  seest 
the  world  is  cast  behind  him,  and  that  a crown  hangs  over  his  head;  that  is 
to  show  thee  that,  slighting  and  despising  the  things  that  are  present,  for 
the  love  that  he  hath  to  his  Master’s  service,  he  is  sure  in  the  world  that 
comes  next  to  have  glory  for  his  reward.  Now,  said  the  Interpreter,  I have 
showed  thee  this  picture  first,  because  the  man  whose  picture  this  is,  is  the 
only  man  whom  the  Lord  of  the  place  whither  thou  art  going  hath 
authorized  to  be  thy  guide,  in  all  difficult  places  thou  mayest  meet  with 
in  thy  way;  wherefore  take  good  heed  to  what  I have  showed  thee, 
and  bear  well  in  thy  mind  what  thou  hast  seen,  lest  in  thy  journey 
thou  meet  with  some  that  pretend  to  lead  thee  right,  but  their  way  goes 
down  to  death. 

Then  he  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a very  large  parlour, 
that  was  full  of  dust,  because  never  swept;  the  which  after  he  had  reviewed 
it  a little  while,  the  Interpreter  called  for  a man  to  sweep.  Now,  when  he 
began  to  sweep,  the  dust  began  so  abundantly  to  fly  about,  that  Christian 
had  almost  therewith  been  choked.  Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  a damsel 
that  stood  by,  “Bring  hither  water,  and  sprinkle  the  room;”  the  which  when 
she  had  done,  it  was  swept  and  cleansed  with  pleasure. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian,  “What  means  this?” 

Inter.  The  Interpreter  answered,  “This  parlour  is  the  heart  of  a man 
that  was  never  sanctified  by  the  sweet  grace  of  the  Gospel.  The  dust  is  his 
original  sin,  and  inward  corruptions  that  have  defiled  the  whole  man.  He 
that  began  to  sweep  at  first  is  the  law;  but  she  that  brought  water,  and  did 
sprinkle  it,  is  the  Gospel.  Now,  whereas  thou  sawest  that,  as  soon  as  the 
first  began  to  sweep,  the  dust  did  so  fly  about  that  the  room  could  not  by 
him  be  cleansed,  but  that  thou  wast  almost  choked  therewith;  this  is  to  show 
thee,  that  the  law,  instead  of  cleansing  the  heart  (by  its  working)  from  sin, 
doth  revive  (Rom.  vii.  9),  put  strength  into  (I.  Cor.  xv.  56),  and  increase  it 
in  the  soul  (Rom.  v.  20),  even  as  it  doth  discover  and  forbid  it,  for  it  doth 
not  give  power  to  subdue.  Again,  as  thou  sawest  the  damsel  sprinkle  the 
room  with  water,  upon  which  it  was  cleansed  with  pleasure;  this  is  to  show 
thee,  that  when  the  Gospel  comes,  in  the  sweet  and  gracious  influences 
thereof,  to  the  heart,  then,  I say,  even  as  thou  sawest  the  damsel  lay  the 
dust  by  sprinkling  the  floor  with  water,  so  is  sin  vanquished  and  subdued, 
and  the  soul  made  clean  through  the  faith  of  it,  and,  consequently,  fit  for 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


the  King  of  Glory  to  inhabit.  (John  xv.  3;  Eph.  v.  26;  Acts  xv.  9;  Rom. 
xvi.  25,  26;  John  xv.  13.) 

I saw  moreover  in  my  dream,  that  the  Interpreter  took  him  by  the  hand, 
and  had  him  into  a little  room  where  sat  two  little  children,  each  one  in  his 
own  chair.  The  name  of  the  eldest  was  Passion,  and  the  name  of  the  other 
Patience.  Passion  seemed  to  be  much  discontented,  but  Patience  was  very 
quiet.  Then  Christian  asked,  “What  is  the  reason  of  the  discontent  of 
Passion?”  The  Interpreter  answered,  “ The  governor  of  them  would  have 
him  stay  for  his  best  things  till  the  beginning  of  next  year;  but  he  will  have 
all  now.  Patience  is  willing  to  wait.” 

Then  I saw  that  one  came  to  Passion,  and  brought  him  a bag  of  treasure, 
and  poured  it  down  at  his  feet;  the  which  he  took  up,  and  rejoiced  therein, 
and  withal  laughed  Patience  to  scorn.  But  I beheld  but  awhile,  and  he  had 
lavished  all  away,  and  had  nothing  left  him  but  rags. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  “Expound  this  matter 
more  fully  to  me.” 

Inter.  So  he  said,  “These  two  lads  are  figures:  Passion,  of  the  men  of 
this  world;  and  Patience,  of  the  men  of  that  which  is  to  come:  for,  as  here 
thou  seest,  Passion  will  have  all  now,  this  year,  that  is  to  say  in  this  world; 
so  are  the  men  of  this  world:  they  must  have  all  their  good  things  now; 
they  cannot  stay  till  the  next  year,  that  is,  until  the  next  world,  for  their 
portion  of  good.  That  proverb,  ‘A  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the 
bush,’  is  of  more  authority  with  them  than  all  the  Divine  testimonies  of  the 
good  of  the  world  to  come.  But,  as  thou  sawest  that  he  had  quickly 
lavished  all  away,  and  had  presently  left  him  nothing  but  rags,  so  will  it  be 
with  all  such  men  at  the  end  of  this  world.” 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian,  “ Now  I see  that  Patience  has  the  best 
wisdom,  and  that  upon  many  accounts.  1.  Because  he  stays  for  the  best 
things.  2.  And  also  because  he  will  have  the  glory  of  his  when  the  other 
has  nothing  but  rags.” 

Inter.  Nay,  you  may  add  another;  to  wit,  the  glory  of  the  next  world 
will  never  wear  out;  but  these  are  suddenly  gone.  Therefore  Passion  had 
not  so  much  reason  to  laugh  at  Patience  because  he  had  his  good  things  at 
first,  as  Patience  will  have  to  laugh  at  Passion,  because  he  had  his  best 
things  last;  for  first  must  give  place  to  last,  because  last  must  have  his 
time  to  come;  but  last  gives  place  to  nothing,  for  there  is  not  another  to 
succeed:  he,  therefore,  that  hath  his  portion  first,  must  needs  have  a time  to 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE. 


29 


spend  it;  but  he  that  hath  his  portion  last,  must  have  it  lastingly;  therefore 
it  is  said  of  Dives,  “In  thy  lifetime  thou  receivedst  thy  good  things,  and 
likewise  Lazarus  evil  things;  but  now  he  is  comforted,  and  thou  art  tor- 
mented.” (Luke  xv.  25.) 

Chris.  Then  I perceive  it  is  not  best  to  covet  things  that  are  now,  but  to 
wait  for  things  to  come. 

Inter.  You  say  truth;  “for  the  things  that  are  seen  are  temporal,  but  the 
things  that  are  not  seen  are  eternal.”  (II.  Cor.  iv.  18.)  But,  though  this 
be  so,  yet,  since  things  present  and  our  fleshly  appetite  are  such  near 
neighbours  one  to  another;  and  again,  because  things  to  come  and  carnal 
sense  are  such  strangers  one  to  another;  therefore  it  is,  that  the  first  of  these 
so  suddenly  fall  into  amity,  and  that  distance  is  so  continued  between  the 
second.  (Rom.  vii.  15 — 25.) 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  Interpreter  took  Christian  by  the  hand 
and  led  him  into  a place  where  was  a fire  burning  against  a wall,  and  one 
standing  by  it,  always  casting  much  water  upon  it,  to  quench  it;  yet  did  the 
fire  burn  higher  and  hotter. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian,  “What  means  this?” 

Inter.  The  Interpreter  answered,  “This  fire  is  the  work  of  grace  that  is 
wrought  in  the  heart:  he  that  casts  water  upon  it  to  extinguish  and  put  it 
out,  is  the  devil;  but,  in  that  thou  seest  the  fire  notwithstanding  burn  higher 
and  hotter,  thou  shalt  also  see  the  reason  of  that.”  So  then  he  had  him 
about  to  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  where  he  saw  a man  with  a vessel  of  oil 
in  his  hand,  of  the  which  he  did  also  continually  cast,  but  secretly,  into 
the  fire. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian,  “What  means  this?” 

Inter.  The  Interpreter  answered,  “This  is  Christ,  who  continually,  with 
the  oil  of  His  grace,  maintains  the  work  already  begun  in  the  heart;  by  the 
means  of  which,  notwithstanding  what  the  devil  can  do,  the  souls  of  His 
people  prove  gracious  still.  (II.  Cor.  xii.  9.)  And  in  that  thou  sawest  that 
the  man  stood  behind  the  wall  to  maintain  the  fire;  this  is  to  teach  thee, 
that  it  is  hard  for  the  tempted  to  see  how  this  work  of  grace  is  maintained 
in  the  soul.” 

I saw  also  that  the  Interpreter  took  him  again  by  the  hand,  and  led  him 
into  a pleasant  place,  where  was  built  a stately  palace,  beautiful  to  behold, 
at  the  sight  of  which  Christian  was  greatly  delighted.  He  saw  also  upon 
the  top  thereof  certain  persons  walking,  who  were  clothed  all  in  gold. 


30 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Then  said  Christian,  “May  we  go  in  thither?” 

Then  the  Interpreter  took  him  and  led  him  up  toward  the  door  of  the 
palace;  and  behold,  at  the  door  stood  a great  company  of  men,  as  desirous 
to  go  in,  but  durst  not.  There  also  sat  a man  at  a little  distance  from  the 
door,  at  a table-side,  with  a book  and  his  ink-horn  before  him,  to  take  the 
name  of  him  that  should  enter  therein;  he  saw  also  that  in  the  doorway 
stood  many  men  in  armour  to  keep  it,  being  resolved  to  do  to  the  men  that 
would  enter  what  hurt  and  mischief  they  could.  Now  was  Christian  some- 
what in  amaze.  At  last,  when  every  man  started  back  for  fear  of  the  armed 
men,  Christian  saw  a man  of  a very  stout  countenance  come  up  to  the  man 
that  sat  there  to  write,  saying,  “Set  down  my  name,  sir:”  the  which  when 
he  had  done,  he  saw  the  man  draw  his  sword,  and  put  a helmet  upon  his 
head,  and  rush  toward  the  door  upon  the  armed  men,  who  laid  upon  him 
with  deadly  force;  but  the  man,  not  at  all  discouraged,  fell  to  cutting  and 
hacking  most  fiercely.  So  that,  after  he  had  received  and  given  many 
wounds  to  those  that  attempted  to  keep  him  out  (Matt.  xi.  12;  Acts  xiv. 
22),  he  cut  his  way  through  them  all  and  pressed  forward  into  the  palace; 
at  which  there  was  a pleasant  voice  heard  from  those  that  were  within,  even 
of  those  that  walked  upon  the  top  of  the  palace,  saying: 


“Come  in,  come  in, 

Eternal  glory  thou  shalt  win.” 

So  he  went  in,  and  was  clothed  in  such  garments  as  they.  Then 
Christian  smiled,  and  said,  “I  think  verily  I know  the  meaning  of  this." 

“ Now,”  said  Christian,  “ let  me  go  hence.”  “ Nay,  stay,"  said 
Despair  like  the  Interpreter,  “until  I have  showed  thee  a little  more;  and 

an  iron  cage,  after  that  thou  shalt  go  on  thy  way.”  So  he  took  him  by  the 
hand  again,  and  led  him  into  a very  dark  room,  where  there 
sat  a man  in  an  iron  cage. 

Now,  the  man,  to  look  on,  seemed  very  sad.  He  sat  with  his  eyes 
looking  down  to  the  ground,  his  hands  folded  together;  and  he  sighed  as  if 
he  would  break  his  heart.  Then  said  Christian,  “What  means  this?”  At 
which  the  Interpreter  bid  him  talk  with  the  man. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  man,  “What  art  thou?”  The  man  answered, 
“ I am  what  I was  not  once.” 

Chris.  What  wast  thou  once? 


“There  sat  a man  in  an  Iron  cage.’’ 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE. 


33 


Man.  The  man  said,  “I  was  once  a fair  and  flourishing  professor  (Luke 
viii.  13),  both  in  mine  own  eyes,  and  also  in  the  eyes  of  others;  I was  once, 
as  I thought,  fair  for  the  Celestial  City,  and  had  even  joy  at  the  thoughts 
that  I should  get  thither." 

Chris.  Well,  but  what  art  thou  now? 

Man.  I am  now  a man  of  despair,  and  am  shut  up  in  it,  as  in  this  iron 
cage.  I cannot  get  out.  Oh,  now  I cannot! 

Chris.  But  how  earnest  thou  in  this  condition  ? 

Man.  I left  off  to  watch  and  be  sober.  I laid  the  reins  upon  the  neck  of 
my  lusts;  I sinned  against  the  light  of  the  Word  and  the  goodness  of  God; 
I have  grieved  the  Spirit,  and  He  is  gone;  I tempted  the  devil,  and  he  has 
come  to  me;  I have  provoked  God  to  anger,  and  He  has  left  me;  I have  so 
hardened  my  heart  that  I cannot  repent. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  “ But  are  there  no  hopes  for  such 
a man  as  this?"  “Ask  him,"  said  the  Interpreter. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian,  “ Is  there  no  hope,  but  you  must  be  kept  in 
the  iron  cage  of  despair?” 

Man.  No,  none  at  all. 

Chris.  Why?  the  Son  of  the  Blessed  is  very  pitiful. 

Man.  I have  crucified  Him  to  myself  afresh.  (Heb.  vi.  6.)  I have 
despised  His  person.  (Luke  xix.  14.)  I have  despised  His  righteousness; 
I have  counted  His  blood  an  unholy  thing;  I have  done  despite  to  the  Spirit 
of  grace.  (Heb.  x.  28,  29.)  Therefore  I have  shut  myself  out  of  all  the 
promises,  and  there  now  remains  to  me  nothing  but  threatenings,  dreadful 
threatenings,  fearful  threatenings  of  certain  judgment  and  fiery  indignation, 
which  shall  devour  me  as  an  adversary. 

Chris.  For  what  did  you  bring  yourself  into  this  condition? 

Man.  For  the  lusts,  pleasures,  and  profits  of  this  world;  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  which  I did  then  promise  myself  much  delight;  but  now  every  one 
of  those  things  also  bite  me,  and  gnaw  me,  like  a burning  worm. 

Chris.  But  canst  thou  not  now  repent  and  turn  ? 

Man.  God  hath  denied  me  repentance.  His  Word  gives  me  no  encour- 
agement to  believe;  yea,  Himself  hath  shut  me  up  in  this  iron  cage;  nor 
can  all  the  men  in  the  world  let  me  out.  O eternit}  ! eternity!  how  shall  I 
grapple  with  the  misery  that  I must  meet  with  in  eternity? 

Inter.  Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  “Let  this  man’s  misery  be 
remembered  by  thee,  and  be  an  everlasting  caution  to  thee. ' 


34 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Chris.  “Well,”  said  Christian,  “this  is  fearful!  God  help  me  to  watch 
and  be  sober,  and  to  pray,  that  I may  shun  the  cause  of  this  man's  misery. 
Sir,  is  it  not  time  for  me  to  go  on  my  way  now?” 

Inter.  Tarry  till  I show  thee  one  thing  more,  and  then  thou  shalt  go  on 
thy  way. 

So  he  took  Christian  by  the  hand  again,  and  led  him  into  a chamber,  where 
there  was  one  rising  out  of  bed;  and,  as  he  put  on  his  raiment,  he  shook 
and  trembled.  Then  said  Christian,  “Why  doth  this  man  thus  tremble?” 
The  Interpreter  then  bid  him  tell  to  Christian  the  reason  of  his  so  doing. 

So  he  began,  and  said,  “This  night,  as 
I was  in  my  sleep,  I dreamed,  and 
behold,  the  heavens  grew  exceeding 
black;  also  it  thundered  and  lightened 
in  most  fearful  wise,  that  it  put  me  into 
an  agony.  So  I looked  up  in  my  dream, 
and  saw  the  clouds  rack  at  an  unusual 
rate;  upon  which  I heard  a great  sound 
of  a trumpet,  and  saw  also  a Man  sitting 
upon  a cloud,  attended  with  the  thou- 
sands of  heaven;  they  were  all  in 
flaming  fire;  also  the  heavens  were  in  a 
burning  flame.  I heard  then  a great 
voice  saying,  ‘Arise,  ye  dead,  and  come 
to  judgment.'  And  with  that  the  rocks 
rent,  the  graves  opened,  and  the  dead 
that  were  therein  came  forth : some  of 
them  were  exceeding  glad,  and  looked 
upward;  and  some  thought  to  hide 
themselves  under  the  mountains.  Then 
I saw  the  Man  that  sat  upon  the  cloud 
open  the  book,  and  bid  the  world  draw  near.  Yet  there  was,  by  reason  of 
a fierce  flame  that  issued  out  and  came  before  Him,  a convenient  distance 
betwixt  Him  and  them,  as  betwixt  the  judge  and  the  prisoners  at  the  bar 
(I.  Cor.  xv.;  I Thess.  iv.  16;  Jude  15;  John  v.  28,  29;  II.  Thess.  i.  7 — 10; 
Rev.  xx.  11  — 14;  Isa.  xxvi.  21 ; Micah  vii.  16,  17;  Psa.  1.  1 — 3;  Mai.  iii.  2,  3; 
Dan.  vii.  9,  10).  I heard  it  also  proclaimed  to  them  that  attended  on  the 
Man  that  sat  on  the  cloud,  ‘Gather  together  the  tares,  the  chaff,  and  stubble, 


••  The  bottomless  pit  opened  just  whereabout  I stood.” 


“His  burden  fell  off  his  back,  and  begun  to  tumble.'' 

% 


THE  BOTTOMLESS  PIT. 


37 


and  cast  them  into  the  burning  lake.’  (Matt.  iii.  12;  xiii.  30;  xxv.  30;  Mai. 
iv.  1.)  And,  with  that,  the  bottomless  pit  opened,  just  whereabout  I stood; 
out  of  the  mouth  of  which  there  came,  in  an  abundant  manner,  smoke  and 
coals  of  fire,  with  hideous  noises.  It  was  also  said  to  the  same  persons, 
‘Gather  my  wheat  into  the  garner.'  (Luke  iii.  27.)  And,  with  that,  I saw 
many  catched  up  and  carried  away  into  the  clouds;  but  I was  left  behind. 
(I.  Thess.  iv.  16,  17.)  I also  sought  to  hide  myself,  but  I could  not;  for  the 
Man  that  sat  upon  the  cloud  still  kept  His  eye  upon  me;  my  sins  also  came 
into  my  mind,  and  my  conscience  did  accuse  me  on  every  side.  (Rom.  ii. 
14,  15.)  Upon  this  I awakened  from  my  sleep.” 

Chris.  But  what  was  it  that  made  you  so  afraid  of  this  sight? 

Man.  Why,  I thought  that  the  day  of  judgment  was  come,  and  that  I 
was  not  ready  for  it.  But  this  affrighted  me  most,  that  the  angels  gathered 
up  several,  and  left  me  behind;  also  the  pit  of  hell  opened  her  mouth  just 
where  I stood.  My  conscience,  too,  afflicted  me;  and,  as  I thought,  the 
Judge  had  always  His  eye  upon  me,  showing  indignation  in  His  coun- 
tenance. 

Inter.  Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  “ Hast  thou  considered 
these  things?” 

Chris.  Yes;  and  they  put  me  in  hope  and  fear. 

Inter.  Well,  keep  all  things  so  in  thy  mind,  that  they  may  be  as  a goad 
in  thy  sides,  to  prick  thee  forward  in  the  way  thou  must  go. 

Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to  address  himself  to  his 
journey.  Then  said  the  Interpreter,  “The  Comforter  be  always  with  thee, 
good  Christian,  to  guide  thee  into  the  way  that  leads  to  the  city.” 

So  Christian  went  on  his  way,  saying, 

“ Here  have  I seen  things  rare  and  profitable; 

Things  pleasant,  dreadful;  things  to  make  me  stable 
In  what  I have  begun  to  take  in  hand  ; 

Then  let  me  think  on  them,  and  understand 
Wherefore  they  showed  me  where ; and  let  me  be 
Thankful.  O good  Interpreter,  to  thee.” 

Now,  I saw  in  my  dream  that  the  highway  up  which  Christian  was  to  go 
was  fenced  on  either  side  with  a wall  that  was  called  Salvation.  (Isa. 
xxvi.  1.)  Up  this  way,  therefore,  did  burdened  Christian  run,  but  not  with- 
out great  difficulty,  because  of  the  load  on  his  back. 


38 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


He  ran  thus  till  he  came  to  a place  somewhat  ascending;  and  upon  that 
place  stood  a Cross,  and  a little  below,  in  the  bottom,  a sepulchre.  So  1 
saw  in  my  dream,  that,  just  as  Christian  came  up  with  the  cross,  his  burden 
loosed  from  off'  his  shoulders,  and  fell  from  off  his  back,  and  began  to 
tumble,  and  so  continued  to  do  till  it  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  sepulchre, 
where  it  fell  in,  and  I saw  it  no  more. 

Then  was  Christian  glad  and  lightsome,  and  said  with  a merry  heart, 
“He  hath  given  me  rest  by  His  sorrow,  and  life  by  His  death.’  Then  he 
stood  still  awhile  to  look  and  wonder;  for  it  was  very  surprising  to  him  that 
the  sight  of  the  cross  should  thus  ease  him  of  his  burden.  He  looked, 
therefore,  and  looked  again,  even  till  the  springs  that  were  in 
his  head  sent  the  water  down  his  cheeks.  (Zech.  xii.  io.) 
Now,  as  he  stood  looking  and  weeping,  behold,  three  Shining 
Ones  came  to  him,  and  saluted  him  with  “Peace  be  to  thee.” 
So  the  first  said  to  him,  “Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee’’  (Mark 
ii.  5) ; the  second  stripped  him  of  his  rags,  and  clothed  him 
with  a change  of  raiment  (Zech.  iii.  4) ; the  third  also  set  a 
mark  on  his  forehead  (Eph.  i.  13),  and  gave  him  a roll  with  a seal  upon  it, 
which  he  bade  him  look  on  as  he  ran,  and  that  he  should  give  it  in  at  the 
celestial  gate:  so  they  went  their  way.  Then  Christian  gave  three  leaps  for 
joy,  and  went  on,  singing, 


When  God 
releases  us 
of  our  guilt 
and  burden, 
we  are  as 
those  that 
leap  for  joy. 


A Christian 
can  sing, 
though  alone, 
when  God 
doth  give  him 
joy  in  his 
heart. 


“ Thus  far  did  I come  laden  with  my  sin  ; 

Nor  could  aught  ease  the  grief  that  I was  in, 

Till  I came  hither:  what  a place  is  this! 

Must  here  be  the  beginning  of  my  bliss? 

Must  here  the  burden  fall  from  off  my  back? 
Must  here  the  strings  that  bound  it  to  me  crack? 
Blest  cross ! blest  sepulchre ! blest  rather  be 
The  Man  that  was  there  put  to  shame  for  me!” 


I saw  then  in  my  dream  that  he  went  on  thus,  even  until  he  came  to  the 
bottom,  where  he  saw,  a little  out  of  the  way,  three  men  fast  asleep,  with 
fetters  upon  their  heels.  The  name  ol  one  was  Simple,  of  another  Sloth, 
and  of  the  third  Presumption. 

Christian,  then,  seeing  them  lie  in  this  case,  went  to  them,  if  perad- 
venture  he  might  awake  them,  and  cried,  “You  are  like  them  that  sleep  on 
the  top  of  a mast  (Pro.  xxiii.  34);  for  the  deep  sea  is  under  you,  a gulf  that 


“Behold,  three  Shining  Ones  came  to  him,  and  saluted  him." 


FORMALIST  AND  HYPOCRISY. 


4i 


hath  no  bottom:  awake,  therefore,  and  come  away;  be  willing,  also,  and  I 
will  help  you  off  with  your  irons.”  He  also  told  them,  “If  he 
that  goeth  about  like  a roaring  lion  (I.  Pet.  v.  8)  comes  by,  you  There  is  no 
will  certainly  become  a prey  to  his  teeth.”  With  that  they  P^smisior^ 
looked  upon  him,  and  began  to  reply  in  this  sort:  Simple  said,  openeth  not 
“I  see  no  danger.”  Sloth  said,  “Yet  a little  more  sleep.”  the  eyes. 
And  Presumption  said,  “Every  tub  must  stand  upon  his  own 
bottom.”  And  so  they  lay  down  to  sleep  again,  and  Christian  went  on 
his  way. 

Yet  was  he  troubled  to  think  that  men  in  that  danger  should  so  little 
esteem  the  kindness  of  him  that  so  offered  to  help  them,  both  by  awakening 
of  them,  counselling  of  them,  and  proffering  to  help  them  off  with  their 
irons.  And,  as  he  was  troubled  thereabout,  he  espied  two  men  come 
tumbling  over  the  wall  on  the  left  hand  of  the  narrow  way;  and  they  made 
up  apace  to  him.  The  name  of  one  was  Formalist,  and  the  name  of  the 
other  was  Hypocrisy.  So,  as  I said,  they  drew  up  unto  him,  who  thus 
entered  with  them  into  discourse: 

Chris.  Gentlemen,  whence  came  you,  and  whither  go  you? 

Form  and  Hyp.  We  were  born  in  the  land  of  Vain-glory,  and  are  going 
for  praise  to  Mount  Zion. 

Chris.  Why  came  you  not  in  at  the  gate  which  standeth  at  the  beginning 
of  the  way?  Know  ye  not  that  it  is  written,  “He  that  cometh  not  in  by 
the  door,  but  climbeth  up  some  other  way,  the  same  is  a thief  and  a 
robber”?  (John  x.  1.) 

Form  and  Hyp.  They  said  that  to  go  to  the  gate  for  entrance  was,  by 
all  their  countrymen,  counted  too  far  about;  and  that  therefore  their 
usual  way  was  to  make  a short  cut  of  it,  and  to  climb  over  the  wall  as 
they  had  done. 

Chris.  But  will  it  not  be  counted  a trespass  against  the  Ford  of  the  city 
whither  we  are  bound,  thus  to  violate  His  revealed  will? 

Form  and  Hyp.  They  told  him,  that  as  for  that,  he  needed  not  trouble 
his  head  thereabout;  for  what  they  did  they  had  custom  for,  and  could 
produce,  if  need  were,  testimony  that  could  witness  it  for  more  than  a 
thousand  years. 

Chris.  “But,”  said  Christian,  “will  it  stand  a trial  at  law?” 

Form  and  Hyp.  They  told  him  that  custom,  it  being  of  so  long  standing 
as  above  a thousand  years,  would  doubtless  now  be  admitted  as  a thing 


42 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


FORMALIST. 


They  that 
come  into  the 
way,  but  not 
by  the  door, 
think  that 
they  can  say 
something  in 
vindication 
of  their  own 
practice. 


legal  by  an  impartial  judge.  “And  be- 
sides," said  they,  “if  we  get 
into  the  way,  what  matter 
is  it  which  way  we  may  get 
in?  If  we  are  in,  we  are 
in:  thou  are  but  in  the  way, 
who,  as  we  perceive,  came 
in  at  the  gate;  and  we  are 
also  in  the  way,  that  came 
tumbling  over  the  wall: 
wherein,  now,  is  thy  condition  better 
than  ours?" 

Chris.  I walk  by  the  rule  of  my 
Master;  you  walk  by  the  rude  working 
of  your  fancies.  You  are  counted 
thieves  already  by  the  Lord  of  the  way; 
therefore  I doubt  you  will  not  be  found 
true  men  at  the  end  of  the  way.  You 
come  in  by  yourselves  without  His 
direction,  and  shall  go  out  by  yourselves  without  His  mercy. 

To  this  they  made  him  but  little 
answer;  only  they  bid  him  look  to  him- 
self. Then  I saw  that  they  went  on  every 
man  in  his  way,  without  much  conference 
one  with  another;  save  that  these  two 
men  told  Christian,  that,  as  to  law  and 
ordinances,  they  doubted  not  but  that 
they  should  as  conscientiously  do  them  as 
he.  “Therefore,"  said  they,  “we  see  not 
wherein  thou  differest  from  us,  but  by  the 
coat  which  is  on  thy  back,  which  was,  as 
we  trow,  given  thee  by  some  of  thy 
neighbours  to  hide  the  shame  of  thy 
nakedness.” 

Chris.  By  laws  and  ordinances  you 
will  not  be  saved,  since  you  came  not  in 
by  the  door  (Gal.  ii.  16).  And  as  for  this 


HYPOCRISY. 


He  fell  from  running  to  going,  and  from  going  to  clambering  upon  his  hands  and  his  knees,  because 

of  the  steepness  of  the  place." 


FORMALIST  AND  HYPOCRISY. 


45 


Christian  has 
got  his  Lord’s 
coat  on  his 
back,  and  is 
comforted 
therewith. 


coat  that  is  on  my  back,  it  was  given  to 
me  by  the  Lord  of  the  place  whither  I 
go;  and  that,  as  you  say,  to  cover  my 
nakedness  with.  And  1 
take  it  as  a token  of  His 
kindness  to  me;  for  I had 
nothing  but  rags  before. 

And  besides,  thus  I com- 
fort myself  as  I go.  Surely, 
think  I,  when  I come  to  the  gate  of  the 
city,  the  Lord  thereof  will  know  me  for 
good,  since  I have  His  coat  on  my  back : 
a coat  that  He  gave  me  freely  in  the 
day  that  He  stripped  me  of  my  rags.  I 
have,  moreover,  a mark  in  my  forehead, 
of  which  perhaps  you  have  taken  no 
notice,  which  one  of  my  Lord’s  most 
intimate  associates  fixed  there  the  day 


' He  stumbled  and  fell,  and  rose  no  more.’ 


He  is  com- 
forted also 
with  his  mark 
and  his  roll. 


that  my  burden  fell  off  my  shoulders.  I 
will  tell  you,  moreover,  that  I had  then 
given  me  a roll  sealed,  to  comfort  me  by 
reading  as  I go  in  the  way; 

I was  also  bid  to  give  it  in 
at  the  celestial  gate,  in 
token  of  my  certain  going 
in  after  it;  all  which  things, 

I doubt,  you  want,  and  want  them  be- 
cause you  came  not  in  at  the  gate. 

To  these  things  they  gave  him  no 
answer;  only  they  looked  upon  each 
other,  and  laughed.  Then  I saw  that 
they  went  on  all,  save  that  Christian 
kept  before,  who  had  no  more  talk  but 
with  himself,  and  sometimes  sighingly, 
and  sometimes  comfortably;  also  he 
would  be  often  reading  in  the  roll  that 


He  at  last  fell  into  a slumber.” 


46 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


one  of  the  Shining  Ones  gave  him,  by  which  he  was  refreshed.  I beheld 
then  that  they  all  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  foot  of  the  Hill  Difficulty, 
at  the  bottom  of  which  was  a spring. 

There  were  also  in  the  same  place  two  other  ways,  besides  that  which 

came  straight  from  the  gate; 
one  turned  to  the  left  hand,  and 
the  other  to  the  right,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill;  but  the  nar- 
row way  lay  right  up  the  hill, 
and  the  name  of  that  going  up 
the  side  of  the  hill  is  called 
Difficulty.  Christian  now  went 
to  the  spring  (Isa.  xlix.  20),  and 
drank  thereof  to  refresh  him- 
self, and  then  began  to  go  up 
the  hill,  saying, 


“ The  hill,  though  high,  I covet  to  as- 
cend ; 

The  difficulty  will  not  me  offend, 

For  I perceive  the  way  to  life  lies  here. 

Come,  pluck  up,  heart,  let’s  neither 
faint  nor  fear. 

Better,  though  difficult,  the  right  way 
to  go, 

Than  wrong,  though  easy,  where  the 
end  is  woe.” 


MISTRUST. 


that  these  two  ways  might  meet  again 
on  the  other  side  of  the  hill ; therefore 
ways.  Now,  the  name  of  one  of  those  ways  was  Danger,  and  the  name  of 
the  other  Destruction.  So  the  one  took  the  way 


The  other  two  also  came  to 

the  foot  of  the  hill.  But  when 

they  saw  that  the  hill  was  steep 

and  high,  and  that 

The  danger  there  were  two 
of  turning  out 
of  the  way.  other  waYS  to  g°  = 

and  supposing  also 
with  that  up  which  Christian  went, 
they  were  resolved  to  go  in  those 


which  is  called  Danger, 


CHRISTIAN  FALLS  ASLEEP. 


47 


which  led  him  into  a great  wood ; and  the  other  took  directly  up  the  way  to 
destruction,  which  led  him  into  a wide  field,  full  of  dark  mountains,  where 
he  stumbled  and  fell,  and  rose  no  more. 

I looked  then  after  Christian,  to  see  him  go  up  the  hill,  where  I perceived 
he  fell  from  running  to  going, 
and  from  going  to  clamber- 
ing upon  his  hands  and  his 
knees,  because  of  the  steep- 
ness of  the  place. 

NOW,  about  the  A ward  of 
midway  to  the  Srace- 
top  of  the  hill 
was  a pleasant  arbour  made 
by  the  Lord  of  the  hill  for  the 
refreshment  of  weary  trav- 
ellers. Thither,  therefore, 

Christian,  got,  where  also  he 
sat  down  to  rest  him ; then  he 
pulled  his  roll  out  of  his 
bosom,  and  read  therein  to  his 
comfort;  he  also  now  began 
afresh  to  take  a review  of 
the  coat  or  garment  that  was 
given  him  as  he  stood  by  the 
cross.  Thus  pleasing  himself 
a while,  he  at  last  fell  into  a 
slumber,  and  thence  into  a 
fast  sleep,  which  detained  him 
in  that  place  until  it  was  al- 
most night;  and 
in  his  sleep  his 
roll  fell  out  of 
his  hand.  Now, 

as  he  was  sleeping,  there  came  one  to  him,  and  awaked  him,  saying,  “Go  to 
the  ant,  thou  sluggard;  consider  her  ways,  and  be  wise.”  (Prov.  vi.  6.) 
And,  with  that,  Christian  suddenly  started  up,  and  sped  on  his  way,  and 
went  apace  till  he  came  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 


He  that 
sleeps  is  a 
loser. 


TIMOROUS. 


48 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Now,  when  he  was  got  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  there  came  two  men 
running  amain:  the  name  of  the  one  was  Timorous,  and  of  the  other 
Mistrust;  to  whom  Christian  said,  “Sirs,  what’s  the  matter?  You  run  the 
wrong  way.”  Timorous  answered,  that  they  were  going  to  the  city  of  Zion, 
and  had  got  up  that  difficult  place:  “but,"  said  he,  “the  farther  we  go,  the 
more  danger  we  meet  with;  wherefore  we  turned,  and  are  going  back 
again.” 

“Yes,”  said  Mistrust,  “for  just  before  us  lie  a couple  of  lions  in  the  way, 
whether  sleeping  or  waking  we  know  not;  and  we  could  not  think,  if  we 
came  within  reach,  but  they  would  presently  pull  us  in  pieces.” 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian,  “You  make  me  afraid ; but  whither  shall  I 
fly  to  be  safe?  If  I go  back  to  my  own  country,  that  is  prepared  for  fire 
and  brimstone,  and  I shall  certainly  perish  there;  if  I can  get  to  the 
Celestial  City,  I am  sure  to  be  in  safety  there:  I must  venture.  To  go  back 
is  nothing  but  death;  to  go  forward  is  fear  of  death,  and  life 
Christian  everlasting  beyond  it.  I will  yet  go  forward.”  So  Mistrust 

fear  and  Timorous  ran  down  the  hill,  and  Christian  went  on  his 

way.  But,  thinking  again  of  what  he  heard  from  the  men,  he 
felt  in  his  bosom  for  his  roll,  and  found  it  not.  Then  was  Christian  in  great 
distress,  and  knew  not  what  to  do;  for  he  wanted  that  which  used  to  relieve 
him,  and  that  which  should  have  been  his  pass  into  the  Celestial  City. 
Here,  therefore,  he  began  to  be  much  perplexed  and  knew  not  what  to  do. 
At  last  he  bethought  himself  that  he  had  slept  in  the  arbour  that  is  on  the 
side  of  the  hill;  and,  falling  down  upon  his  knees,  he  asked  God  forgiveness 
for  that  his  foolish  act,  and  then  went  back  to  look  for  his  roll.  But  all  the 
way  he  went  back,  who  can  sufficiently  set  forth  the  sorrow  of  Christian’s 
heart?  Sometimes  he  sighed,  sometimes  he  wept,  and  oftentimes  he  chid 
himself  for  being  so  foolish  to  fall  asleep  in  that  place,  which  was  erected 
only  for  a little  refreshment  from  his  weariness.  Thus,  therefore,  he  went 
back,  carefully  looking  on  this  side  and  on  that,  all  the  way  as  he  went,  if 
happily  he  might  find  his  roll  that  had  been  his  comfort  so  many  times  in 
his  journey.  He  went  thus  till  he  came  again  within  sight  of  the  arbour 
where  he  sat  and  slept;  but  that  sight  renewed  his  sorrow  the  more,  by 
bringing  again,  even  afresh,  his  evil  of  sleeping  into  his  mind.  (Rev.  ii.  4, 
5;  I.  Thess.  v.  6 — 8.)  Thus,  therefore,  he  now  went  on,  bewailing  his  sinful 
sleep,  saying,  “O  wretched  man  that  I am,  that  I should  sleep  in  the  day- 
time; that  I should  sleep  in  the  midst  of  difficulty!  that  I should  so  indulge 


CHRISTIAN  LOSES  HIS  ROLL— AND  FINDS  IT. 


49 


the  flesh,  as  to  use  that  rest  for  ease  to  my  flesh  which  the  Lord  of  the  hill 
hath  erected  only  for  the  relief  of  the  spirits  of  pilgrims!  How  many  steps 
have  I taken  in  vain!  Thus  it  happened  to  Israel;  for  their  sin  they  were 
sent  back  again  by  the  way  of  the  Red  Sea;  and  I am  made  to  tread  those 
steps  with  sorrow  which  I might  have  trod  with  delight,  had  it  not  been  for 
this  sinful  sleep.  How  far  might  I have  been  on  my  way  by  this  time!  I 
am  made  to  tread  those  steps  thrice  over  which  I needed  not  to  have  trod 
but  once;  yea,  also,  now  I am  like  to  be  benighted,  for  the  day  is  almost 
spent.  Oh  that  I had  not  slept!” 

Now,  by  this  time  he  was  come  to  the  arbour  again,  where  for  awhile  he 
sat  down  and  wept;  but  at  last  (as  Providence  would  have  it),  looking 
sorrowfully  down. under  the  settle,  there  he  espied  his  roll,  the  which  he, 
with  trembling  and  haste,  catched  up,  and  put  it  into  his  bosom.  But  who 
can  tell  how  joyful  this  man  was  when  he  had  gotten  his  roll  again?  for  this 
roll  was  the  assurance  of  his  life  and  acceptance  at  the  desired  haven. 
Therefore  he  laid  it  up  in  his  bosom,  giving  thanks  to  God  for  directing  his 
eye  to  the  place  where  it  lay,  and  with  joy  and  tears  betook  himself  again 
to  his  journey.  But  oh,  how  nimbly  now  did  he  go  up  the  rest  of  the  hill! 
Yet,  before  he  got  up,  the  sun  went  down  upon  Christian;  and  this  made 
him  again  recall  the  vanity  of  his  sleeping  to  his  remembrance;  and  thus  he 
began  again  to  condole  with  himself,  “Oh,  thou  sinful  sleep!  how  for  thy 
sake  am  I like  to  be  benighted  in  my  journey.  I must  walk  without  the 
sun,  darkness  must  cover  the  path  of  my  feet,  and  I must  hear  the  noise  of 
the  doleful  creatures,  because  of  my  sinful  sleep!”  Now  also  he  remem- 
bered the  story  that  Mistrust  and  Timorous  told  him,  of  how  they  were 
frighted  with  the  sight  of  the  lions.  Then  said  Christian  to  himself  again, 
“These  beasts  range  in  the  night  for  their  prey;  and  if  they  should  meet 
with  me  in  the  dark,  how  should  I shift  them?  how  should  I escape  being 
torn  in  pieces?”  Thus  he  went  on  his  way.  But,  while  he  was  thus 
bewailing  his  unhappy  miscarriage,  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  behold,  there 
was  a very  stately  palace  before  him,  the  name  of  which  was  Beautiful,  and 
it  stood  just  by  the  highway  side.  (Rev.  iii.  2;  I Thess.  v.  7,  8.) 

So  I saw  in  my  dream  that  he  made  haste,  and  went  forward,  that,  if 
possible,  he  might  get  lodging  there.  Now,  before  he  had  gone  far,  he 
entered  into  a very  narrow  passage,  which  was  about  a furlong  off  the 
Porter’s  lodge;  and  looking  very  narrowly  before  him  as  he  went,  he  espied 
two  lions  in  the  way.  Now,  thought  he,  I see  the  dangers  that  Mistrust 


50 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


and  Timorous  were  driven  back  by.  (The  lions  were  chained,  but  he  saw 
not  the  chains.)  Then  he  was  afraid,  and  thought  also  himself  to  go  back 
after  them;  for  he  thought  nothing  but  death  was  before  him.  But  the 
Porter  at  the  lodge,  whose  name  is  Watchful,  perceiving  that  Christian 
made  a halt,  as  if  he  would  go  back,  cried  out  unto  him,  saying,  “Is  thy 
strength  so  small  ? (Mark  iv.  40) ; fear  not  the  lions,  for  they  are  chained, 
and  are  placed  there  for  the  trial  of  faith  where  it  is,  and  for  the  discovery 

of  those  that  have  none:  keep  in  the 
midst  of  the  path,  and  no  hurt  shall 
come  unto  thee.” 

Then  I saw  that  he  went  on  trembling 
for  fear  of  the  lions;  but,  taking  good 
heed  to  the  directions  of  the  Porter,  he 
heard  them  roar,  but  they  did  him  no 
harm.  Then  he  clapped  his  hands,  and 
went  on  till  he  came  and  stood  before 
the  gate  where  the  Porter  was.  Then 
said  Christian  to  the  Porter,  “Sir,  what 
house  is  this  ? and  may  I lodge  here 
to-night?’ 

The  Porter  answered,  “This  house 
was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  and 
He  built  it  for  the  relief  and  security 
of  pilgrims.”  The  Porter  also  asked 
whence  he  was,  and  whither  he  was 
going. 

Chris.  I am  come  from  the  City  of 
Destruction,  and  am  going  to  Mount 
Zion ; but,  because  the  sun  is  now  set,  I desire,  if  I may,  to  lodge  here 
to-night. 

Port.  What  is  your  name? 

Chris.  My  name  is  now  Christian,  but  my  name  at  the  first  was  Grace- 
less. I came  of  the  race  of  Japhet,  whom  God  will  persuade  to  dwell  in 
the  tents  of  Shem.  (Gen.  ix.  27.) 

Port.  But  how  doth  it  happen  that  you  come  so  late?  The  sun  is  set. 

Chris.  I had  been  here  sooner,  but  that,  wretched  man  that  I am,  I slept 
in  the  arbour  that  stands  on  the  hill-side.  Nay,  I had,  notwithstanding 


"The  lions  were  chained,  but  he  saw  not  the  chains.” 


PRUDENCE,  PIETY,  AND  CHARITY. 


S3 


that,  been  here  much  sooner,  but  that  in  my  sleep  I lost  my  evidence,  and 
came  without  it  to  the  brow  of  the  hill;  and  then,  feeling  for  it  and  finding 
it  not,  I was  forced  with  sorrow  of  heart  to  go  back  to  the  place  where  I 
slept  my  sleep,  where  I found  it;  and  now  I am  come. 

Port.  Well,  I will  call  out  one  of  the  virgins  of  this  place,  who  will,  if 
she  likes  your  talk,  bring  you  in  to  the  rest  of  the  family,  according  to  the 
rules  of  the  house. 

So  Watchful  the  Porter  rang  a bell,  at  the  sound  of  which  came  out  of 
the  door  of  the  house  a grave  and  beautiful  damsel,  named  Discretion,  and 
asked  why  she  was  called. 

The  Porter  answered,  “This  man  is  on  a journey  from  the  City  of 
Destruction  to  Mount  Zion;  but,  being  weary  and  benighted,  he  asked  me 
if  he  might  lodge  here  to-night:  so  I told  him  I would  call  for  thee,  who, 
after  discourse  had  with  him,  mayest  do  as  seemeth  thee  good,  even  accord- 
ing to  the  law  of  the  house.” 

Then  she  asked  him  whence  he  was,  and  whither  he  was  going;  and  he 
told  her.  She  asked  him  also  how  he  got  into  the  way;  and  he  told  her. 
Then  she  asked  him  what  he  had  seen  and  met  with  on  the  way;  and  he 
told  her.  And  at  last  she  asked  his  name.  So  he  said,  “It  is  Christian; 
and  I have  so  much  the  more  a desire  to  lodge  here  to-night,  because,  by 
what  I perceive,  this  place  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill  for  the  relief 
and  security  of  pilgrims.”  So  she  smiled,  but  the  water  stood  in  her  eyes; 
and,  after  a little  pause,  she  said,  “I  will  call  forth  two  or  three  of  my 
family.”  So  she  ran  to  the  door,  and  called  out  Prudence,  Piety,  and 
Charity,  who,  after  a little  more  discourse  with  him,  had  him  in  to  the 
family;  and  many  of  them,  meeting  him  at  the  threshold  of  the  house,  said, 
“Come  in,  thou  blessed  of  the  Lord:  this  house  was  built  by  the  Lord  of 
the  hill  on  purpose  to  entertain  such  pilgrims  in.”  Then  he  bowed  his 
head,  and  followed  them  into  the  house.  So,  when  he  was  come  in  and  sat 
down,  they  gave  him  something  to  drink,  and  consented  together,  that, 
until  supper  was  ready,  some  of  them  should  have  some  particular  dis- 
course with  Christian,  for  the  best  improvement  of  time;  and  they  appointed 
Piety,  Prudence,  and  Charity  to  discourse  with  him;  and  thus  they  began: 

Piety.  Come,  good  Christian,  since  we  have  been  so  loving  to  you  to 
receive  you  into  our  house  this  night,  let  us,  if  perhaps  we  may  better  our- 
selves thereby,  talk  with  you  of  all  things  that  have  happened  to  you  in 
your  pilgrimage. 


54 


PHE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Chris.  With  a very  good  will,  and  I am  glad  that  you  are  so  well 
disposed. 

Piety.  What  moved  you  at  first  to  betake  yourself  to  a pilgrim’s  life? 

Chris.  I was  driven  out  of  my  native  country  by  a dreadful  sound  that 
was  in  mine  ears;  to  wit,  that  unavoidable  destruction  did  attend  me,  if  I 
abode  in  that  place  where  I was. 

Piety.  But  how  did  it  happen  that  you  came  out  of  your  country  this 
way  ? 

Chris.  It  was  as  God  would  have  it;  for,  when  I was  under  the  fears  of 
destruction,  I did  not  know  whither  to  go;  but  by  chance  there  came  a man 
even  to  me,  as  I was  trembling  and  weeping,  whose  name  is  Evangelist, 
and  he  directed  me  to  the  wicket-gate,  which  else  I should  never  have 
found,  and  so  set  me  in  the  way  that  hath  led  me  directly  to  this  house. 

Piety.  But  did  you  not  come  by  the  house  of  the  Interpreter? 

Chris.  Yes,  and  did  see  such  things  there,  the  remembrance  of  which 
will  stick  by  me  as  long  as  I live,  especially  three  things;  to  wit,  how  Christ, 
in  despite  of  Satan,  maintains  His  work  of  grace  in  the  heart;  how  the 
man  had  sinned  himself  quite  out  of  hopes  of  God’s  mercy;  and  also  the 
dream  of  him  that  thought  in  his  sleep  the  day  of  judgment  was  come. 

Piety.  Why?  did  you  hear  him  tell  his  dream? 

Chris.  Yes,  and  a dreadful  one  it  was,  I thought;  it  made  my  heart 
ache  as  he  was  telling  of  it;  but  yet  I am  glad  I heard  of  it. 

Piety.  Was  that  all  you  saw  at  the  house  of  the  Interpreter? 

Chris.  No;  he  took  me,  and  had  me  where  he  showed  me  a stately 
palace;  and  how  the  people  were  clad  in  gold  that  were  in  it;  and  how 
there  came  a venturous  man,  and  cut  his  way  through  the  armed  men  that 
stood  in  the  door  to  keep  him  out;  and  how  he  was  bid  to  come  in  and  win 
eternal  glory.  Methought  those  things  did  ravish  my  heart.  I would  have 
stayed  at  that  good  man’s  house  a twelvemonth,  but  that  I knew  I had 
farther  to  go. 

Piety.  And  what  saw  you  else  in  the  way? 

Chris.  Saw?  Why,  I went  but  a little  farther,  and  I saw  One,  as  I 
thought  in  my  mind,  hang  bleeding  upon  a tree;  and  the  very  sight  of  Him 
made  my  burden  fall  off  my  back;  for  I groaned  under  a very  heavy 
burden,  and  then  it  fell  down  from  off  me.  It  was  a strange  thing  to  me, 
for  I never  saw  such  a thing  before;  yea,  and  while  I stood  looking  up  (for 
then  I could  not  forbear  looking),  three  Shining  Ones  came  to  me.  One  of 


“‘This  man  is  on  a journey  from  the  City  of  Destruction  to  Mount  Zion.’ 


CHRISTIAN  CONVERSES  WITH  THE  VIRGINS. 


57 


them  testified  that  my  sins  were  forgiven  me;  another  stripped  me  of  my 
rags,  and  gave  me  this  broidered  coat  which  you  see;  and  the  third  set  the 
mark  which  you  see  in  my  forehead,  and  gave  me  this  sealed  roll.  (And, 
with  that,  he  plucked  it  out  of  his  bosom.) 

Piety.  But  you  saw  more  than  this,  did  you  not? 

Chris.  The  things -that  I have  told  you  were  the  best;  yet  some  other 
matters  I saw;  as  namely,  I saw  three  men,  Simple,  Sloth,  and  Presumption, 
lie  asleep,  a little  out  of  the  way  as  I came,  with  irons  upon  their  heels;  but 
do  you  think  I could  wake  them  ? I also  saw  Formalist  and  Hypocrisy 
come  tumbling  over  the  wall,  to  go,  as  they  pretended,  to  Zion;  but  they 
were  quickly  lost,  even  as  I myself  did  tell  them,  but  they  would  not 
believe.  But,  above  all,  I found  it  hard  work  to  get  up  this  hill,  and  as 
hard  to  come  by  the  lions’  mouths ; and  truly,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
good  man  the  Porter,  that  stands  at  the  gate,  I do  not  know  but  that,  after 
all,  I might  have  gone  back  again;  but  now  I thank  God  I am  here,  and  I 
thank  you  for  receiving  of  me. 

Then  Prudence  thought  good  to  ask  him  a few  questions,  and  desired  his 
answer  to  them. 

Pru.  Do  you  think  sometimes  of  the  country  from  whence  you  came? 

Chris.  Yes,  but  with  much  shame  and  detestation.  Truly,  if  I had  been 
mindful  of  that  country  from  whence  I came  out,  I might  have  had  an 
opportunity  to  have  returned;  but  now  I desire  a better  country,  that  is,  a 
heavenly  one.  (Heb.  xi.  15,  16.) 

Pru.  Do  you  not  yet  bear  away  with  you  some  of  the  things  that  then 
you  were  conversant  withal  ? 

Chris.  Yes,  but  greatly  against  my  will ; especially  my  inward  and  carnal 
cogitations,  with  which  all  my  countrymen,  as  well  as  myself,  were 
delighted.  But  now  all  those  things  are  my  grief;  and,  might  I but  choose 
mine  own  things,  I would  choose  never  to  think  of  those  things  more;  but, 
when  I would  be  doing  that  which  is  best,  that  which  is  worst  is  with  me. 
(Rom.  vii.  15 — 21.) 

Pru.  Do  you  not  find  sometimes  as  if  those  things  were  vanquished, 
which  at  other  times  are  your  perplexity? 

Chris.  Yes,  but  that  is  but  seldom;  but  they  are  to  me  golden  hours  in 
which  such  things  happen  to  me. 

Pru.  Can  you  remember  by  what  means  you  find  your  annoyances,  at 
times,  as  if  they  were  vanquished? 


53 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Chris.  Yes;  when  I think  what  I saw  at  the  cross,  that  will 
do  it;  and  when  I look  upon  by  broidered  coat,  that  will  do  it; 
also  when  I look  into  the  roll  that  I carry  in  my  bosom,  that 
will  do  it;  and  when  my  thoughts  wax  warm  about  whither  I 
am  going,  that  will  do  it. 

Pru.  And  what  makes  you  so  desirous  to  go  to  Mount  Zion? 

Chris.  Why,  there  I hope  to  see  Him  alive  that  did  hang  dead  on  the 
cross;  and  there  I hope  to  be  rid  of  all  those  things  that  to  this  day  are  in 
me  an  annoyance  to  me.  There,  they  say,  there  is  no  death 
why  Chris-  (Isa.  xxv.  8;  Rev.  xxi.  4);  and  there  I shall  dwell  with  such 
bea^Mount  comPany  as  I best.  For, to  tell  you  the  truth,  I love  Him 
Zion.  because  I was  by  Him  eased  of  my  burden;  and  I am  weary 

of  my  inward  sickness.  I would  fain  be  where  I shall  die 
no  more,  and  with  the  company  that  shall  continually  cry,  “Holy,  holy, 
holy ! ” 

Char.  Then  said  Charity  to  Christian,  “Have  you  a family?  are  you  a 
married  man?” 

Chris.  1 have  a wife  and  four  small  children. 

Char.  And  why  did  you  not  bring  them  along  with  you? 

Chris.  Then  Christian  wept,  and  said,  “Oh,  how  willingly  would  I have 
done  it!  but  they  were  all  of  them  utterly  averse  to  my  going  on  pil- 
grimage.” 

Char.  But  you  should  have  talked  to  them,  and  endeavoured  to  have 
shown  them  the  danger  of  staying  behind. 

Chris.  So  I did,  and  told  them  also  what  God  had  shown  to  me  of  the 
destruction  of  our  city;  but  I seemed  to  them  as  one  that  mocked,  and  they 
believed  me  not.  (Gen.  xix.  14.) 

Char.  And  did  you  pray  to  God  that  He  would  bless  your  counsel  to 
them  ? 

Chris.  Yes,  and  that  with  much  affection;  for  you  must  think  that  my 
wife  and  poor  children  were  very  dear  unto  me. 

Char.  But  did  you  tell  them  of  your  own  sorrow  and  fear  of  destruc- 
tion? for  I suppose  that  destruction  was  visible  enough  to  you. 

Chris.  Yes,  over,  and  over,  and  over.  They  might  also  see  my  fears  in 
my  countenance,  in  my  tears,  and  also  in  my  trembling  under  the  appre- 
hension of  the  judgment  that  did  hang  over  our  heads:  but  all  was  not 
sufficient  to  prevail  with  them  to  come  with  me. 


How  Chris- 
tian gets 
power 
against  his 
corruptions. 


CHARITY  CONVERSES  WITH  CHRISTIAN. 


59 


Char.  But  what  could  they  say  for  themselves  why  they  came  not? 

Chris.  Why,  my  wife  was  afraid  of  losing  this  world,  and  my  children 
were  given  to  the  foolish  delights  of  youth;  so,  what  by  one  thing,  and 
what  by  another,  they  left  me  to  wander  in  this  manner  alone. 

Char.  But  did  you  not,  with  your  vain  life,  damp  all  that  you  by  words 
used  by  way  of  persuasion  to  bring  them  away  with  you? 

Chris.  Indeed,  I cannot  commend  my  life,  for  I am  conscious  to  myself 
of  many  failings  therein.  I know  also,  that  a man,  by  his  conversation, 
may  soon  overthrow  what,  by  argument  or  persuasion,  he  doth  labour  to 
fasten  upon  others  for  their  good.  Yet  this  I can  say,  I was  very  wary  of 
giving  them  occasion,  by  any  unseemly  action,  to  make  them  averse  to 
going  on  pilgrimage.  Yea,  for  this  very  thing  they  would  tell  me  I was  too 
precise,  and  that  I denied  myself  of  things  (for  their  sakes)  in  which  they 
saw  no  evil.  Nay,  I think  I may  say  that,  if  what  they  saw  in  me  did 
hinder  them,  it  was  my  great  tenderness  in  sinning  against  God,  or  of 
doing  any  wrong  to  my  neighbour. 

Char.  Indeed,  Cain  hated  his  brother  (I.  John  iii.  12)  because  his  own 
works  were  evil,  and  his  brother’s  righteous;  and,  if  thy  wife  and  children 
have  been  offended  with  thee  for  this,  they  thereby  show  themselves  to  be 
implacable  to  good:  thou  hast  delivered  thy  soul  from  their  blood.  (Ezek. 
iii.  19.) 

Now  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  thus  they  sat  talking  together  till  supper 
was  ready.  So,  when  they  had  made  ready,  they  sat  down  to  meat.  Now, 
the  table  was  furnished  with  fat  things,  and  wine  that  was  well  refined;  and 
all  their  talk  at  the  table  was  about  the  Lord  of  the  hill;  as,  namely,  about 
what  He  had  done,  and  wherefore  He  did  what  He  did,  and  why  He  had 
budded  that  house;  and  by  what  they  said,  I perceived  that  He  had  been  a 
great  warrior,  and  had  fought  with  and  slain  him  that  had  the  power  of 
death  (Heb.  ii.  14,  15),  but  not  without  great  danger  to  Himself,  which  made 
me  love  Him  the  more. 

For,  as  they  said,  anti  as  I believe  (said  Christian),  He  did  it  with  the 
loss  of  much  blood.  But  that  which  puts  the  glory  of  grace  into  all  He 
did,  was,  that  He  did  it  out  of  pure  love  to  this  country.  And,  besides, 
there  were  some  of  them  of  the  household  that  said  they  had  seen  and 
spoke  with  Him  since  He  did  tlie  on  the  cross;  and  they  have  attested  that 
they  had  it  from  1 1 is  own  lips,  that  He  is  such  a lover  of  poor  pilgrims, 
that  the  like  is  not  to  be  found  from  the  east  to  the  west.  They  moreover 


6o 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


gave  an  instance  of  what  they  affirmed;  and  that  was,  He  had  stripped 
Himself  of  His  glory,  that  He  might  do  this  for  the  poor;  and  that  they 
had  heard  Him  say  and  affirm  that  He  would  not  dwell  in  the  mountains 
of  Zion  alone.  They  said,  moreover,  that  He  had  made 
Christ  makes  many  pilgrims  princes,  though  by  nature  they  were  beggars 
beggars.0  born,  and  their  original  had  been  the  dunghill.  (I.  Sam.  ii.  8; 

Psa.  cxiii.  7.) 

Thus  they  discoursed  together  till  late  at  night;  and,  after  they  had  com- 
mitted themselves  to  their  Lord  for  protection,  they  betook  themselves  to 
rest.  The  Pilgrim  they  laid  in  a large  upper  chamber,  wrhose  window 
opened  towards  the  sunrising.  The  name  of  the  chamber  was  Peace,  where 
he  slept  till  break  of  day,  and  then  he  awoke  and  sang, 

“Where  am  I now?  Is  this  the  love  and  care 
Of  Jesus,  for  the  men  that  pilgrims  are, 

Thus  to  provide  that  I should  be  forgiven, 

And  dwell  already  the  next  door  to  heaven?” 

So  in  the  morning  they  all  got  up;  and  after  some  more  discourse,  they 
told  him  that  he  should  not  depart  till  they  had  shown  him  the  rarities  of 
that  place.  And  first  they  had  him  into  the  study,  where  they  showed  him 
records  of  the  greatest  antiquity;  in  which,  as  I remember  in  my  dream, 
they  showed  him  first  the  pedigree  of  the  Lord  of  the  hill,  that  He  was  the 
son  of  the  Ancient  of  Days,  and  came  by  an  eternal  generation.  Llere 
also  were  more  fully  recorded  the  acts  that  He  had  done,  and  the  names  of 
many  hundreds  that  Pie  had  taken  into  His  service;  and  how  He  had 
placed  them  in  such  habitations  that  could  neither  by  length  of  days  nor 
decays  of  nature  be  dissolved. 

Then  they  read  to  him  some  of  the  worthy  acts  that  some  of  His  servants 
had  done;  as,  how  they  had  subdued  kingdoms,  wrought  righteousness, 
obtained  promises,  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions,  quenched  the  violence  of 
fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword,  out  of  weakness  were  made  strong, 
waxed  valiant  in  fight,  and  turned  to  flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens.  (Heb. 
xi-  33.  34-) 

They  then  read  again  in  another  part  of  the  records  of  the  house,  where 
■it  was  shown  how  willing  their  Lord  was  to  receive  into  His  favour  any, 
even  any,  though  they  in  time  past  had  offered  great  affronts  to  1 1 is  person 
and  proceedings.  Here  also  were  several  other  histories  of  many  other 


“Then  they  read  to  him  some  of  the  worth/  acts  that  some  of  His  servants  had  done.” 


IMMANUEL'S  LAND. 


famous  things,  of  all  which  Christian  had  a view;  as  of  things  both  ancient 
and  modern,  together  with  prophecies  and  predictions  of  things  that  have 
their  certain  accomplishments,  both  to  the  dread  and  amazement  of 
enemies,  and  the  comfort  and  solace  of  pilgrims. 

The  next  day  they  took  him  and  had  him  into  the  armoury,  where  they 
showed  him  all  manner  of  furniture  which  their  Lord  had  provided  for 
pilgrims;  as  sword,  shield,  helmet,  breast-plate,  all-prayer,  and  shoes  that 
would  not  wear  out.  And  there  was  here  enough  of  this  to  harness  out  as 
many  men  for  the  service  of  their  Lord  as  there  be  stars  in  the  heaven  for 
multitude. 

They  also  showed  him  some  of  the  engines  with  which  some  of  His 
servants  had  done  wonderful  things.  They  showed  him  Moses  rod;  the 
hammer  and  nail  with  which  Jael  slew  Sisera;  the  pitchers,  trumpets,  and 
lamps  too,  with  which  Gideon  put  to  flight  the  armies  of  Midian.  Then 
they  showed  him  the  ox's  goad  wherewith  Shamgar  slew  six  hundred  men. 
They  showed  him  also  the  jaw-bone  with  which  Samson  did  such  mighty 
feats.  They  showed  him,  moreover,  the  sling  and  stone  with  which  David 
slew  Goliath  of  Gath,  and  the  sword  also  with  which  their  Lord  will  kill  the 
Man  of  Sin,  in  the  day  that  He  shall  rise  up  to  the  prey.  They  showed 
him,  besides,  many  excellent  things,  with  which  Christian  was  much 
delighted.  This  done,  they  went  to  their  rest  again. 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream  that  on  the  morrow  he  got  up  to  go  forward, 
but  they  desired  him  to  stay  till  the  next  day  also;  ‘Land  then,'’  said  they, 
“we  will,  if  the  day  be  clear,  show  you  the  Delectable  Mountains;”  which 
they  said  would  yet  further  add  to  his  comfort,  because  they  were  nearer 
the  desired  haven  than  the  place  where  at  present  he  was.  So  he  con- 
sented and  stayed.  When  the  morning  was  up,  they  had  him  to  the  top  of 
the  house,  and  bid  him  look  south.  So  he  did,  and  behold,  at  a great 
distance  he  saw  a most  pleasant  mountainous  country,  beautified  with 
woods,  vineyards,  fruit  of  all  sorts,  flowers  also,  with  springs  and  foun- 
tains, very  delectable  to  behold.  (Isa.  xxxiii.  16,  17.)  Then  he  asked  the 
name  of  the  country.  They  said  it  was  Immanuel’s  Land;  “and  it  is  as 
common,”  said  they,  “as  this  hill  is,  to  and  for  all  the  pilgrims.  And  when 
thou  comest  there,  from  thence  thou  mayest  see  to  the  gate  of  the  Celestial 
City,  as  the  shepherds  that  live  there  will  make  appear.” 

Now  he  bethought  himself  of  setting  forward,  and  they  were  willing  he 
should.  “But  first,”  said  they,  “let  us  go  again  into  the  armoury."  So 


64 


THE  PILGRIM’S  PROGRESS. 


they  did;  and  when  he  came  there,  they  harnessed  him  from  head  to  foot 
with  what  was  of  proof,  lest  perhaps  he  should  meet  with  assaults  in  the 
way.  He  being,  therefore,  thus  accoutred,  walked  out  with  his  friends  to 
the  gate;  and  there  he  asked  the  Porter  if  he  saw  any  pilgrim  pass  by. 
Then  the  Porter  answered,  “Yes.” 

Chris.  “Pray  did  you  know  him?”  said  he. 

Port.  I asked  his  name,  and  he  told  me  it  was  Faithful. 

Chris.  “Oh,”  said  Christian,  “I  know  him,  he  is  my  townsman,  my  near 
neighbour:  he  comes  from  the  place  where  I was  born.  How  far  do  you 
think  he  may  be  before?” 

Port.  He  has  got  by  this  time  below  the  hill. 

Chris.  “Well,”  said  Christian,  “good  Porter,  the  Lord  be  with  thee,  and 
add  to  all  thy  blessings  much  increase  for  the  kindness  thou  hast  showed 
to  me ! " 

Then  he  began  to  go  forward;  but  Discretion,  Piety,  Charity,  and 
Prudence  would  accompany  him  down  to  the  foot  of  the  hill.  So  they 
went  on  together,  reiterating  their  former  discourses,  till  they  came  to  go 
down  the  hill.  Then  said  Christian,  “As  it  was  difficult  coming  up,  so,  so 
far  as  I can  see,  it  is  dangerous  going  down.”  “Yes,”  said  Prudence,  “so 
it  is;  for  it  is  a hard  matter  for  a man  to  go  down  the  Valley  of  Humilia- 
tion, as  thou  art  now,  and  to  catch  no  slip  by  the  way;  therefore,”  said  they, 
“are  we  come  out  to  accompany  thee  down  the  hill."  So  he  began  to  go 
down,  but  very  warily;  yet  he  caught  a slip  or  two. 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream  that  these  good  companions,  when  Christian 
was  gone  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  gave  him  a loaf  of  bread,  a bottle 
of  wine,  and  a cluster  of  raisins;  and  then  he  went  his  way. 

But  now,  in  this  Valley  of  Humiliation,  poor  Christian  was  hard  put  to 
it;  for  he  had  gone  but  a little  way  before  he  espied  a foul  fiend  coming 
over  the  field  to  meet  him:  his  name  is  Apollyon.  Then  did  Christian 
begin  to  be  afraid,  and  to  cast  in  his  mind  whether  to  go  back  or  to  stand  his 
ground.  But  he  considered  again  that  he  had  no  armour  for  his  back,  and 
therefore  thought  that  to  turn  the  back  to  him  might  give  him  greater 
advantage  with  ease  to  pierce  him  with  his  darts;  therefore  he  resolved  to 
venture  and  stand  his  ground;  for,  thought  he,  had  I no  more  in  mine  eye 
than  the  saving  of  my  life,  it  would  be  the  best  way  to  stand. 

So  he  went  on,  and  Apollyon  met  him.  Now,  the  monster  was  hideous 
to  behold:  he  was  clothed  with  scales  like  a fish,  and  they  are  his  pride;  he 


A POLL  YON  STAYS  CHRISTIAN. 


65 


had  wings  like  a dragon,  and  feet  like  a bear,  and  out  of  his  belly  came  fire 
and  smoke;  and  his  mouth  was  as  the  mouth  of  a lion.  When  he  was 
come  up  to  Christian,  he  beheld  him  with  a disdainful  countenance,  and 
thus  began  to  question  with  him : 

Apollyon.  Whence  come  you,  and  whither  are  you  bound  ? 

Chris.  I am  come  from  the  City  of  Destruction,  which  is  the  place  of  all 
evil,  and  am  going  to  the  City  of  Zion. 

Apol.  By  this  I perceive  that  thou  art  one  of  my  subjects;  for  all  that 
country  is  mine,  and  I am  the  prince  and  god  of  it.  How  is  it,  then,  that 
thou  hast  run  away  from  thy  king?  Were  it  not  that  I hope  that  thou 
mayest  do  me  more  service,  I would  strike  thee  now  at  one  blow  to  the 
ground. 

Chris.  I was  indeed  born  in  your  dominions;  but  your  service  was  hard, 
and  your  wages  such  as  a man  could  not  live  on ; for  the  wages  of  sin  is 
death  (Rom.  vi.  23) ; therefore,  when  I was  come  to  years,  I did  as  other 
considerate  persons  do,  look  out,  if  perhaps  I might  mend  myself. 

Apol.  There  is  no  prince  that  will  thus  lightly  lose  his 
subjects,  neither  will  I as  yet  lose  thee;  but,  since  thou  com-  Apollyon’s 
plainest  of  thy  service  and  wages,  be  content  to  go  back,  and  flattery, 
what  our  country  will  afford  I do  here  promise  to  give  thee. 

Chris  But  I have  let  myself  to  another,  even  to  the  King  of  princes; 
and  how  can  I with  fairness  go  back  with  thee? 

Apol.  Thou  hast  done  in  this  according  to  the  proverb,  “changed  a bad 
for  a worse;”  but  it  is  ordinary  for  those  that  have  professed 
themselves  His  servants,  after  a while  to  give  Him  the  slip,  Apollyon 
and  return  again  to  me.  Do  thou  so  too,  and  all  shall  be  Q^iesrtYsalues 
well.  service. 

Chris.  I have  given  Him  my  faith,  and  sworn  my  allegiance 
to  Him;  how,  then,  can  I go  back  from  this,  and  not  be  hanged  as  a 
traitor? 

Apol.  Thou  didst  the  same  to  me,  and  yet  I am  willing  to  pass  by  all, 
if  now  thou  wilt  yet  turn  again  and  go  back. 

Chris.  What  I promised  thee  was  in  my  nonage;  and  besides,  I count 
that  the  Prince  under  whose  banner  I now  stand  is  able  to  absolve  me,  yea, 
and  to  pardon  also  what  I did  as  to  my  compliance  with  thee.  And 
besides,  O thou  destroying  Apollyon,  to  speak  the  truth,  I like  His  service, 
His  wages,  His  servants,  His  government,  His  company,  and  country, 


66 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


better  than  thine;  therefore  leave  off  to  persuade  me  further:  I am  His 
servant,  and  I will  follow  Him. 

Apol.  Consider  again  when  thou  art  in  cold  blood,  what  thou  art  likely 
to  meet  with  in  the  way  that  thou  goest.  Thou  knowest  that  for  the  most 
part  His  servants  come  to  an  ill  end,  because  they  are  trans- 
gressors against  me  and  my  ways.  How  many  of  them  have 
been  put  to  shameful  deaths!  And  besides,  thou  countest  His 
service  better  than  mine;  whereas  He  never  came  yet  from  the 
place  where  He  is,  to  deliver  any  that  served  Him  out  of  their 
hands ; but  as  for  me,  how  many  times,  as  all  the  world  very 
well  knows,  have  I delivered,  either  by  power  or  fraud,  those 
that  have  faithfully  served  me,  from  Him  and  His,  though 
taken  by  them!  And  so  I will  deliver  thee. 

Chris.  His  forbearing  at  present  to  deliver  them  is  on  purpose  to  try 
their  love,  whether  they  will  cleave  to  Him  to  the  end;  and,  as  for  the  ill 
end  thou  sayest  they  come  to,  that  is  most  glorious  in  their  account.  For, 
for  present  deliverance,  they  do  not  much  expect  it;  for  they  stay  for  their 
glory,  and  then  they  shall  have  it  when  their  Prince  comes  in  His  and  the 
glory  of  the  angels. 

Apol.  Thou  hast  already  been  unfaithful  in  thy  service  to  Him;  and  how 
dost  thou  think  to  receive  wages  of  Him? 

Chris.  Wherein,  O Apollyon,  have  I been  unfaithful  to  Him? 

Apol.  Thou  didst  faint  at  first  setting  out,  when  thou  wast  almost 
choked  in  the  Gulf  of  Despond.  Thou  didst  attempt  wrong 
Apollyon  ways  to  be  rid  of  thy  burden,  whereas  thou  shouldst  have 
pleads  Chris-  stayed  till  thy  Prince  had  taken  it  off.  Thou  didst  sinfully 

tian  s infir-  , . y . . . . . ™ y 

mities  sleep,  and  lose  thy  choice  things.  1 hou  wast  almost  per- 

agamst  him.  suaded  to  go  back  at  the  sight  of  the  lions.  And  when  thou 

talkest  of  thy  journey,  and  of  what  thou  hast  seen  and 
heard,  thou  art  inwardly  desirous  of  vain-glory  in  all  that  thou  sayest 
or  doest. 

Chris.  All  this  is  true,  and  much  more  which  thou  hast  left  out;  but  the 
Prince  whom  I serve  and  honour  is  merciful  and  ready  to  forgive.  But 
besides,  these  infirmities  possessed  me  in  thy  own  country;  for  there  I 
sucked  them  in,  and  I have  groaned  under  them,  been  sorry  for  them,  and 
have  obtained  pardon  of  my  Prince. 

Apol.  Then  Apollyon  broke  out  into  a grievous  rage,  saying,  “ I am  an 


Apollyon 
pleads  the 
grievous 
ends  of 
Christians, 
to  dissuade 
Christian 
from  persist- 
ing in  his 
way. 


CHRISTIAN  GIVES  BATTLE. 


67 


enemy  to  this  Prince;  I hate  His  person,  His  laws,  and  people.  I am  come 
out  on  purpose  to  withstand  thee.” 

Chris.  Apollyon,  beware  what  you  do,  for  I am  in  the  King’s  highway, 
the  way  of  holiness:  therefore  take  heed  to  yourself. 

Apol.  Then  Apollyon  straddled  quite  over  the  whole  breadth  of  the 
way,  and  said,  “I  am  void  of  fear  in  this  matter.  Prepare  thyself  to  die; 
for  I swear  by  my  infernal  den,  that  thou  shalt  go  no  farther : here  will  I 
spill  thy  soul.”  And,  with  that,  he  threw  a flaming  dart  at  his  breast;  but 
Christian  held  a shield  in  his  hand,  with  which  he  caught  it,  and  so  pre- 
vented the  danger  of  that. 

Then  did  Christian  draw,  for  he  saw  it  was  time  to  bestir  him;  and 
Apollyon  as  fast  made  at  him,  throwing  darts  as  thick  as  hail, 
by  the  which,  notwithstanding  all  that  Christian  could  do  to  Christian 
avoid  it,  Apollyon  wounded  him  in  his  head,  his  hand,  and  h Sunder-"1 
foot.  This  made  Christian  give  a little  back;  Apollyon,  there-  standing, 
fore,  followed  his  work  amain,  and  Christian  again  took  cour-  conversation, 
age,  and  resisted  as  manfully  as  he  could.  This  sore  combat 
lasted  for  above  half  a day,  even  till  Christian  was  almost  quite  spent. 
For  you  must  know  that  Christian,  by  reason  of  his  wounds,  must  needs 
grow  weaker  and  weaker. 

Then  Apollyon,  espying  his  opportunity,  began  to  gather  up  close  to 
Christian,  and,  wrestling  with  him,  gave  him  a dreadful  fall;  and,  with  that, 
Christian’s  sword  flew  out  of  his  hand.  Then  said  Apollyon,  “ I am  sure 
of  thee  now.”  And,  with  that,  he  had  almost  pressed  him  to  death,  so  that 
Christian  began  to  despair  of  life.  But,  as  God  would  have  it,  while 
Apollyon  was  fetching  his  last  blow,  thereby  to  make  a full  end  of  this 
good  man,  Christian  nimbly  reached  out  his  hand  for  his  sword,  and  caught 
it,  saying,  “ Rejoice  not  against  me,  O mine  enemy:  when  I fall  I shall 
arise”  (Mic.  vii.  8);  and,  with  that,  gave  him  a deadly  thrust,  which  made 
him  give  back,  as  one  that  had  received  his  mortal  wound.  Christian,  per- 
ceiving that,  made  at  him  again,  saying,  “ Nay,  in  all  these  things  we  arc 
more  than  conquerors  through  Him  that  loved  us.”  (Rom.  viii.  37.)  And, 
with  that,  Apollyon  spread  forth  his  dragon’s  wings,  and  sped  him  away, 
that  Christian  for  a season  saw  him  no  more.  (James  iv.  7.) 

In  this  combat  no  man  can  imagine,  unless  he  had  seen  and  heard,  as  I 
did,  what  yelling  and  hideous  roaring  Apollyon  made  all  the  time  of  the 
fight:  he  spake  like  a dragon;  and,  on  the  other  side,  what  sighs  and  groans 


68 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


burst  from  Christian's  heart.  I never  saw  him  all  the  while  give  so  much 
as  one  pleasant  look,  till  he  perceived  he  had  wounded  Apollyon  with  his 
two-edged  sword;  then,  indeed,  he  did  smile  and  look  upward;  but  it  was 
the  dreadfullest  sight  that  ever  I saw. 

Chris.  So,  when  the  battle  was  over,  Christian  said,  “ I will  here  give 
thanks  to  Him  that  hath  delivered  me  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  lion;  to 
Him  that  did  help  me  against  Apollyon.”  And  so  he  did,  saying, 

“Great  Beelzebub,  the  captain  of  this  fiend, 
Designed  my  ruin : therefore  to  this  end 
He  sent  him  harnessed  out;  and  he  with  rage 
That  hellish  was,  did  fiercely  me  engage: 

But  blessed  Michael  helped  me;  and  I, 

By  dint  of  sword,  did  quickly  make  him  fly: 
Therefore  to  Him*  let  me  give  lasting  praise, 
And  thank  and  bless  His  holy  name  always.” 

Then  there  came  to  him  a hand  with 
some  of  the  leaves  of  the  tree  of  life; 
the  which  Christian  took,  and  applied 
to  the  wounds  that  he  had  received  in 
the  battle,  and  was  healed  immediately. 
He  also  sat  down  in  that  place  to  eat 
bread,  and  to  drink  of  the  bottle  that 
was  given  to  him  a little  before:  so, 
being  refreshed,  he  addressed  himself  to 
his  journey,  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his 
hand;  “For,”  he  said,  “I  know  not  but 
some  other  enemy  may  be  at  hand.” 
But  he  met  with  no  other  affront  from  Apollyon  quite  through  this 
valley. 

Now,  at  the  end  of  this  valley  was  another,  called  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death ; and  Christian  must  needs  go  through  it,  because  the 
way  to  the  Celestial  City  lay  through  the  midst  of  it.  Now  this  valley  is  a 
very  solitary  place;  the  prophet  Jeremiah  thus  describes  it:  “A  wilderness, 
a land  of  deserts  and  pits,  a land  of  drought,  and  of  the  shadow  of  death, 


“Therefore  to  Him  let  me  give  lasting  praise.1 


* Videlicet , to  God. — El>. 


THE  VALLEY  OE  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH. 


69 


a land  that  no  man  ’’  but  a Christian  “passeth  through,  and  where  no  man 
dwelt.”  (Jer.  ii.  6.) 

Now  here  Christian  was  worse  put  to  it  than  in  his  fight  with  Apollyon, 
as  by  the  sequel  you  shall  see. 

I saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  when  Christian  was  got  to  the  borders  of 
the  Shadow  of  Death,  there  met  him  two  men,  children  of  them  that 
brought  up  an  evil  report  of  the  good  land,  making  haste  to  go  back;  to 
whom  Christian  spake  as  follows: 

Chris.  Whither  are  you  going? 

Men.  They  said,  “Back,  back!  and  we  would  have  you  to  do  so  too,  if 
either  life  or  peace  is  prized  by  you.” 

Chris.  “Why,  what’s  the  matter?”  said  Christian. 

Men.  “Matter!”  said  they:  “we  were  going  that  way  as  you  are  going, 
and  went  as  far  as  we  durst:  and  indeed  we  were  almost  past  coming  back; 
for  had  we  gone  a little  farther,  we  had  not  been  here  to  bring  the  news 
to  thee.” 

Chris.  “But  what  have  you  met  with?”  said  Christian. 

Men.  Why,  we  were  almost  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  but 
that  by  good  hap  we  looked  before  us,  and  saw  the  danger  before  we  came 
to  it.  (Psa.  xliv.  19;  cvii.  10.) 

Chris.  “ But  what  have  you  seen?”  said  Christian. 

Men.  Seen ! why,  the  valley  itself,  which  is  as  dark  as  pitch : we  also  saw 
there  the  hobgoblins,  satyrs,  and  dragons  of  the  pit;  we  heard  also  in  that 
valley  a continual  howling  and  yelling,  as  of  a people  under  unutterable 
misery,  who  there  sat  bound  in  affliction  and  irons;  and  over  that  hung  the 
discouraging  clouds  of  confusion;  Death  also  does  always  spread  his  wings 
over  it.  In  a word,  it  is  every  whit  dreadful,  being  utterly  without  order. 
(Job  iii.  5 ; x.  22.) 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian,  “ I perceive  not  yet,  by  what  you  have  said, 
but  that  this  is  my  way  to  the  desired  haven.”  (Psa.  xliv.  18,  19;  Jer.  ii.  6.) 

Men.  Be  it  thy  way,  we  will  not  choose  it  for  ours. 

So  they  parted,  and  Christian  went  on  his  way,  but  still  with  his  sword 
irawn  in  his  hand,  for  fear  lest  he  should  be  assaulted. 

I saw  then  in  my  dream,  as  far  as  this  valley  reached,  there  was  on  the 
right  hand  a very  deep  ditch;  that  ditch  is  it  into  which  the  blind  have  led 
the  blind  in  all  ages,  and  have  both  there  miserably  perished.  Again, 
behold,  on  the  left  hand  there  was  a very  dangerous  quag,  into  which,  if 


/o 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


even  a good  man  falls,  he  finds  no  bottom  for  his  loot  to  stand  on:  into 
that  quag  King  David  once  did  fall,  and  had  no  doubt  there  been 
smothered,  had  not  He  that  is  able  plucked  him  out. 

The  pathway  was  here  also  exceedingly  narrow,  and  therefore  good 
Christian  was  the  more  put  to  it;  for  when  he  sought,  in  the  dark,  to  shun 
the  ditch  on  the  one  hand,  he  was  ready  to  tip  over  into  the  mire  on  the 
other;  also  when  he  sought  to  escape  the  mire,  without  great  carefulness  he 
would  be  ready  to  fall  into  the  ditch.  Thus  he  went  on,  and  I heard  him 

here  sigh  bitterly,  for  besides  the  danger 
mentioned  above,  the  pathway  was  here 
so  dark,  that  ofttimes,  when  he  lifted  up 
his  foot  to  go  forward,  he  knew  not 
where  or  upon  what  he  should  set  it 
next. 

About  the  midst  of  this  valley  I per- 
ceived the  mouth  of  hell  to  be,  and  it 
stood  also  hard  by  the  wayside.  Now, 
thought  Christian,  what  shall  I do? 
And  ever  and  anon  the  flame  and  smoke 
would  come  out  in  such  abundance, 
with  sparks  and  hideous  noises  (things 
that  cared  not  for  Christian’s  sword,  as 
did  Apollyon  before),  that  he  was  forced 
to  put  up  his  sword,  and  betake  himself 
to  another  weapon,  called  “All -Prayer.” 
(Eph.  vi.  1 8.)  So  he  cried  in  my  hear- 
ing, “O  Lord,  I beseech  Thee,  deliver 
my  soul.”  (Psa.  cxvi.  4.)  Thus  he 
went  on  a great  while,  yet  still  the 
flames  would  be  reaching  towards  him;  also  he  heard  doleful  voices,  and 
rushings  to  and  fro,  so  that  sometimes  he  thought  he  should  be  torn  in 
pieces,  or  trodden  down  like  mire  in  the  streets.  This  frightful  sight  was 
seen,  and  those  dreadful  noises  were  heard  by  him,  for  several  miles 
together,  and,  coming  to  a place  where  he  thought  he  heard  a company  of 
fiends  coming  forward  to  meet  him,  he  stopped,  and  began  to  muse  what 
he  had  best  to  do.  Sometimes  he  had  half  a thought  to  go  back ; then 
again  he  thought  he  might  be  half-way  through  the  valley.  He  remem- 


“One  of  the  wicked  ones  got  behind  him,  and  whisperingly  suggested  many  grievous  blasphemies  to  him,” 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH. 


73 


bered,  also,  how  he  had  already  vanquished  many  a danger,  and  that  the 
danger  of  going  back  might  be  much  more  than  going  forward.  So  he 
resolved  to  go  on;  yet  the  fiends  seemed  to  come  nearer  and  nearer.  But, 
when  they  were  come  even  almost  at  him,  he  cried  out  with  a most  vehe- 
ment voice,  “I  will  walk  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord  God.”  So  they  gave 
back,  and  came  no  farther. 

One  thing  I would  not  let  slip:  I took  notice  that  now  poor  Christian 
was  so  confounded  that  he  did  not  know  his  own  voice;  and  thus  I per- 
ceived it:  just  when  he  was  come  over  against  the  mouth  of 
the  burning  pit,  one  of  the  wicked  ones  got  behind  him,  and 
stepped  up  softly  to  him,  and  whisperingly  suggested  many 
grievous  blasphemies  to  him,  which  he  verily  thought  had  pro- 
ceeded from  his  own  mind.  This  put  Christian  more  to  it  than 
anything  he  had  met  with  before,  even  to  think  that  he  should 
now  blaspheme  Him  that  he  had  so  much  loved  before.  Yet, 
if  he  could  have  helped  it,  he  would  not  have  done  it;  but  he 
had  not  the  discretion  either  to  stop  his  ears,  or  to  know  from  whence  those 
blasphemies  came. 

When  Christian  had  travelled  in  this  disconsolate  condition  some  con- 
siderable time,  he  thought  he  heard  the  voice  of  a man,  as  going  before 
him,  saying,  “Though  I walk  through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
I will  fear  no  evil;  for  Thou  art  with  me.”  (Psa.  xxiii.  4.) 

Then  he  was  glad,  and  that  for  these  reasons: 

First, — Because  he  gathered  from  thence,  that  some  who  feared  God 
were  in  this  valley  as  well  as  himself. 

Secondly, — For  that  he  perceived  God  was  with  them,  though  in  that 
dark  and  dismal  state.  And  why  not,  thought  he,  with  me,  though,  by 
reason  of  the  impediment  that  attends  this  place,  I cannot  perceive  it? 
(Job  ix.  1 1.) 

Thirdly, — For  that  he  hoped  (could  he  overtake  them)  to  have  company 
by-and-bye.  So  he  went  on,  and  called  to  him  that  was  before ; but  he 
knew  not  what  to  answer,  for  that  he  also  thought  himself  to  be  alone. 
And  by-and-bye  the  day  broke.  Then  said  Christian,  “He  hath  turned  the 
shadow  of  death  into  the  morning.”  (Amos  v.  8.) 

Now,  morning  being  come,  he  looked  back,  not  out  of  desire  to  return, 
but  to  see,  by  the  light  of  the  day,  what  hazards  he  had  gone  through  in  the 
dark.  So  he  saw  more  perfectly  the  ditch  that  was  on  the  one  hand,  and 


Christian 
made  believe 
that  he  spake 
blasphemies, 
when  it  was 
Satan  that 
suggested 
them  into  his 
mind. 


74 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


the  quag  that  was  on  the  other;  also  how  narrow  the  way  was  which  led 
betwixt  them  both.  Also  now  he  saw  the  hobgoblins,  and  satyrs,  and 
dragons  of  the  pit,  but  all  afar  off;  for  after  break  of  day  they  came  not 
nigh;  yet  they  were  discovered  to  him  according  to  that  which  is  written, 
“He  discovereth  deep  things  out  of  darkness,  and  bringeth  out  to  light  the 
shadow  of  death.”  (Job  xii.  22.) 

Now  was  Christian  much  affected  with  his  deliverance  from  all  the 
dangers  of  his  solitary  way;  which  dangers,  though  he  feared  them  much 

before,  yet  he  saw  them  more  clearly 
now,  because  the  light  of  the  day  made 
them  conspicuous  to  him.  And  about 
this  time  the  sun  was  rising,  and  this 
was  another  mercy  to  Christian ; for  you 
must  note  that,  though  the  first  part  of 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  was 
dangerous,  yet  this  second  part,  which 
he  was  yet  to  go,  was  if  possible  far 
more  dangerous;  for,  from  the  place 
where  he  now  stood,  even  to  the  end  of 
the  valley,  the  way  was  all  along  set  so 
full  of  snares,  traps,  gins,  and  nets  here, 
and  so  full  of  pits,  pitfalls,  deep  holes, 
and  shelvings  down  there,  that,  had  it 
now  been  dark,  as  it  was  when  he  came 
the  first  part  of  the  way,  had  he  had  a 
thousand  souls,  they  had  in  reason  been 
cast  away.  But,  as  I said  just  now,  the 
sun  was  rising.  Then  said  he,  “His 
candle  shineth  on  my  head,  and  by  His 
light  I go  through  darkness.”  ( Job  xxix.  3.) 

In  this  light,  therefore,  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  valley.  Now,  I saw  in 
my  dream  that  at  the  end  of  the  valley  lay  blood,  bones,  ashes,  and 
mangled  bodies  of  men,  even  of  pilgrims  that  had  gone  this  way  formerly; 
and,  while  I was  musing  what  should  be  the  reason,  1 espied  a little  before 
me  a cave,  where  two  giants,  Pope  and  Pagan,  dwelt  in  old  time;  by  whose 
power  and  tyranny,  the  men  whose  bones,  blood,  ashes,  etc.,  lay  there,  were 
cruelly  put  to  death.  But  by  this  place  Christian  went  without  danger 


“ He  can  now  do  little  more  than  sit  in  his  cave’s 
mouth,  grinning  at  pilgrims.” 


CHRISTIAN  FIRST  SEES  FAITHFUL. 


75 


whereat  I somewhat  wondered;  but  I have  learnt  since,  that  Pagan  has 
been  dead  many  a day;  and,  as  for  the  other,  though  he  be  yet  alive,  he  is, 
by  reason  of  age,  also  of  the  many  shrewd  brushes  that  he  met  with  in  his 
younger  days,  grown  so  crazy  and  stiff  in  his  joints,  that  he  can  now  do 
little  more  than  sit  in  his  cave's  mouth,  grinning  at  pilgrims  as  they  go  by, 
and  biting  his  nails  because  he  cannot  come  at  them. 

So  I saw  that  Christian  went  on  his  way;  yet,  at  the  sight  of  the  old  man 
that  sat  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  he  could  not  tell  what  to  think,  especially 
because  he  spoke  to  him,  though  he  could  not  go  after  him,  saying,  “You 
will  never  mend  till  more  of  you  be  burned.”  But  he  held  his  peace,  and 
set  a good  face  on  it,  and  so  went  by  and  catched  no  hurt.  Then  sang 
Christian, 


“Oh,  world  of  wonders  (I  can  say  no  less), 

That  I should  be  preserved  in  that  distress 
That  I have  met  with  here ! Oh,  blessed  be 
That  hand  that  from  it  hath  delivered  me! 

Dangers  in  darkness,  devils,  hell,  and  sin. 

Did  compass  me,  while  I this  vale  was  in  ; 

Yea,  snares,  and  pits,  and  traps,  and  nets  did  lie  . 

My  path  about,  that  worthless,  silly  I 

Might  have  been  catched,  entangled,  and  cast  down; 

But,  since  I live,  let  Jesus  wear  the  crown.” 


Now  as  Christian  went  on  his  way,  he  came  to  a little  ascent  which 
was  cast  up  on  purpose  that  pilgrims  might  see  before  them:  up  there, 
therefore,  Christian  went;  and  looking  forward,  he  saw  Faithful  before 
him  upon  his  journey.  Then  said  Christian  aloud,  “Ho,  ho!  so-ho! 
stay,  and  I will  be  your  companion."  At  that  Faithful  looked  behind 
him ; to  whom  Christian  cried,  “Stay,  stay,  till  I come  up  to  you.”  But 
Faithful  answered,  “No,  I am  upon  my  life,  and  the  avenger  of  blood  is 
behind  me.” 

At  this  Christian  was  somewhat  moved;  and  putting  to  all  his  strength, 
he  quickly  got  up  with  Faithful,  and  did  also  overrun  him:  so  the  last  was 
first.  Then  did  Christian  vain-gloriously  smile,  because  he  had 
gotten  the  start  of  his  brother;  but,  not  taking  good  heed  to  Chn^ans 
his  feet,  he  suddenly  stumbled  and  fell,  and  could  not  rise  Faithful  and 
again  until  Faithful  came  up  to  help  him.  lovingly 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream,  they  went  very  lovingly  on  together. 


76 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


together,  and  had  sweet  discourse  of  all  things  that  had  happened  to  them 
in  their  pilgrimage;  and  thus  Christian  began: 

Chris.  My  honoured  and  well-beloved  brother  Faithful,  I am  glad  that 
I have  overtaken  you,  and  that  God  has  so  tempered  our  spirits  that  we 
can  walk  as  companions  in  this  so  pleasant  a path. 

Faith.  I had  thought,  dear  friend,  to  have  had  your  company  quite  from 
our  town ; but  you  did  get  the  start  of  me,  wherefore  I was  forced  to  come 
thus  much  of  the  way  alone. 

Chris.  How  long  did  you  stay  in  the  City  of  Destruction  before  you  set 
out  after  me  on  your  pilgrimage? 

Faith.  Till  I could  stay  no  longer;  for  there  was  great  talk,  presently 
after  you  were  gone  out,  that  our  city  would,  in  a short  time,  with  fire  from 
heaven,  be  burned  down  to  the  ground. 

Chris.  What!  did  your  neighbours  talk  so? 

Faith.  Yes;  it  was  for  awhile  in  everybody's  mouth. 

Chris.  What!  and  did  no  more  of  them  but  you  come  out  to  escape  the 
danger? 

Faith.  Though  there  was,  as  I said,  a great  talk  thereabout,  yet  I do  not 
think  they  did  firmly  believe  it.  For,  in  the  heat  of  the  discourse,  I heard 
some  of  them  deridingly  speak  of  you,  and  of  your  desperate  journey ; for 
so  they  called  this  your  pilgrimage.  But  I did  believe,  and  do  still,  that 
the  end  of  our  city  will  be  with  fire  and  brimstone  from  above;  and  there- 
fore I have  made  my  escape. 

Chris.  Did  you  hear  no  talk  of  neighbour  Pliable? 

Faith.  Yes,  Christian;  I heard  that  he  followed  you  till  he  came  to  the 
Slough  of  Despond,  where,  as  some  said,  he  fell  in ; but  he  would  not  be 
known  to  have  so  done;  but  I am  sure  he  was  soundly  bedabbled  with  that 
kind  of  dirt. 

Chris.  And  what  said  the  neighbours  to  him? 

Faith.  He  hath,  since  his  going  back,  been  had  greatly  in  derision,  and 
that  among  all  sorts  of  people:  some  do  mock  and  despise  him,  and  scarce 
any  will  set  him  on  work.  He  is  now  seven  times  worse  than  if  he  had 
never  gone  out  of  the  city. 

Chris.  But  why  should  they  be  so  set  against  him,  since  they  also 
despise  the  way  that  he  forsook? 

Faith.  “ Oh,”  they  say,  “ hang  him ; he  is  a turncoat ! he  was  not  true  to  his 
profession!”  I think  God  has  stirred  up  even  his  enemies  to  hiss  at  him 


“ He  could  not  rise  again  until  Faithful  came  up  to  help  him.1' 


WHAT  WAS  SAW  IN  THE  CIT\ 


79 


and  make  him  a proverb,  because  he  hath  forsaken  the  way.  (Jer.  xxix. 
1 8,  19.) 

Chris.  Had  you  no  talk  with  him  before  you  came  out? 

Faith.  I met  him  once  in  the  streets,  but  he  leered  away  on  the  other 
side,  as  one  ashamed  of  what  he  had  done;  so  I spake  not  to  him. 

Chris.  Well,  at  my  first  setting  out,  I had  hopes  of  that  man,  but  now  I 
fear  he  will  perish  in  the  overthrow  of  the  city.  For  it  has  happened  to 
him  according  to  the  true  proverb,  “The  dog  is  turned  to  his  vomit  again, 
and  the  sow  that  was  washed  to  her  wallowing  in  the  mire.”  (II.  Peter 
ii.  22.) 

Faith.'  These  are  my  fears  of  him  too;  but  who  can  hinder  that  which 
will  be  ? 

Chris.  “Well,  neighbour  Faithful,”  said  Christian,  “let  us  leave  him, 
and  talk  of  things  that  more  immediately  concern  ourselves.  Tell  me  now 
what  you  have  met  with  in  the  way  as  you  came;  for  I know  you  have  met 
with  some  things,  or  else  it  may  be  writ  for  a wonder.” 

Faith.  I escaped  the  slough  that  I perceive  you  fell  into,  and  got  up  to 
the  gate  without  that  danger;  only  I met  with  one  whose  name  was 
Wanton,  that  had  like  to  have  done  me  a mischief. 

Chris.  It  was  well  you  escaped  her  net:  Joseph  was  hard  put  to  it  by 
her,  and  he  escaped  her  as  you  did;  but  it  had  like  to  have  cost  him  his  life. 
(Gen.  xxxix.  1 1 — 13.)  But  what  did  she  do  to  you? 

Faith.  You  cannot  think  (but  that  you  know  something)  what  a flatter- 
ing tongue  she  had;  she  lay  at  me  hard  to  turn  aside  with  her,  promising 
me  all  manner  of  content. 

Chris.  Nay,  she  did  not  promise  you  the  content  of  a good  conscience? 

Faith.  You  know  what  I mean — all  carnal  and  fleshly  content. 

Chris.  Thank  God  you  have  escaped  her:  the  abhorred  of  the  Lord 
shall  fall  into  her  ditch.  (Prov.  xxii.  14.) 

Faith.  Nay,  I know  not  whether  I did  wholly  escape  her  or  no. 

Chris.  Why,  I trow  you  did  not  consent  to  her  desires? 

Faith.  No,  not  to  defile  myself;  for  I remembered  an  old  writing  that  I 
had  seen,  which  saith,  “Her  steps  take  hold  of  hell.”  (Prov.  v.  5.)  So  I 
shut  mine  eyes,  because  I would  not  be  bewitched  with  her  looks.  (Job 
xxxi.  1.)  Then  she  railed  on  me,  and  I went  my  way. 

Chris.  Did  you  meet  with  no  other  assault  as  you  came? 

Faith.  When  I came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  called  Difficulty,  I met  with 


So 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


a very  aged  man,  who  asked  me  what  I was  and  whither  bound.  I told 
him  that  I was  a pilgrim,  going  to  the  Celestial  City.  Then  said  the  old 
man,  “Thou  lookest  like  an  honest  fellow:  wilt  thou  be  content  to  dwell 
with  me,  for  the  wages  that  I shall  give  thee?”  Then  I asked  him  his 
name,  and  where  he  dwelt.  He  said  his  name  was  Adam  the  First,  and 
that  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Deceit.  (Eph.  iv.  22.)  I asked  him  then 
what  was  his  work,  and  what  the  wages  that  he  would  give.  He  told 
me  that  his  work  was  many  delights;  and  his  wages,  that  I should  be  his 
heir  at  last.  I further  asked  him  what  house  he  kept,  and  what  other 
servants  he  had.  So  he  told  me  that  his  house  was  maintained  with  all 
the  dainties  of  the  world,  and  that  his  servants  were  those  of  his  own 
begetting.  Then  I asked  him  how  many  children  he  had.  He  said  that 
he  had  but  three  daughters,  the  Lust  of  the  Flesh,  the  Lust  of  the  Eyes, 
and  the  Pride  of  Life  (I.  John  ii.  16),  and  that  I should  marry  them  if  I 
would.  Then  I asked,  how  long  time  he  would  have  me  live  with  him  ? 
And  he  told  me,  As  long  as  he  lived  himself. 

Chris.  Well,  and  what  conclusion  came  the  old  man  and  you  to  at  last? 

Faith.  Why,  at  first  I found  myself  somewhat  inclinable  to  go  with  the 
man,  for  I thought  he  spake  very  fair;  but  looking  in  his  forehead,  as  I 
talked  with  him,  I saw  there  written,  “Put  off  the  old  man  with  his  deeds.” 

Chris.  And  how  then? 

Faith.  Then  it  came  burning  hot  into  my  mind,  whatever  he  said,  and 
however  he  flattered,  when  he  got  me  home  to  his  house  he  would  sell  me 
for  a slave.  So  I bid  him  forbear  to  talk,  for  I would  not  come  near  the 
door  of  his  house.  Then  he  reviled  me,  and  told  me  that  he  would  send 
such  a one  after  me  that  should  make  my  way  bitter  to  my  soul.  So  I 
turned  to  go  away  from  him;  but,  just  as  I turned  myself  to  go  thence,  I 
felt  him  take  hold  of  my  flesh,  and  give  me  such  a deadly  twitch  back,  that 
I thought  he  had  pulled  part  of  me  after  himself:  this  made  me  cry,  “O 
wretched  man!”  (Rom.  vii.  24.)  So  I went  on  my  way  up  the  hill.  Now, 
when  I had  got  about  half-way  up,  I looked  behind  me,  and  saw  one 
coming  after  me,  swift  as  the  wind;  so  he  overtook  me  just  about  the  place 
where  the  settle  stands. 

Chris.  “Just  there,”  said  Christian,  “did  I sit  down  to  rest  me;  but 
being  overcome  with  sleep,  I there  lost  this  roll  out  of  my  bosom.” 

Faith.  But,  good  brother,  hear  me  out.  So  soon  as  the  man  overtook 
me  he  was  but  a word  and  a blow;  for  down  he  knocked  me,  and  laid  me 


FAITHFUL  AND  ADAM  THE  FIRST 


for  dead.  But,  when  I was  a little  come  to  myself  again,  I asked  him 
wherefore  he  served  me  so.  He  said,  because  of  my  secret  inclining  to 
Adam  the  First.  And,  with  that,  he  struck  me  another  deadly  blow  on  the 
breast,  and  beat  me  down  backwards ; so  I lay  at  his  feet  as  dead  as  before. 
So,  when  I came  to  myself  again,  I cried  him  mercy;  but  he  said,  “I  know 
not  how  to  show  mercy;"  and,  with  that,  he  knocked  me  down  again.  He 
had  doubtless  made  an  end  of  me,  but  that  One  came  by,  and  bid  him 
forbear. 

Chris.  Who  was  that  that  bid  him 
forbear  ? 

Faith.  I did  not  know  Him  at  first; 
but,  as  He  went  by,  I perceived  the 
holes  in  His  hands  and  His  side;  then 
I concluded  that  He  was  our  Lord. 

So  I went  up  the  hill. 

Chris.  That  man  that  overtook  you 
was  Moses.  He  spareth  none,  neither 
knoweth  he  how  to  show  mercy  to  those 
that  transgress  his  law. 

Faith.  I know  it  very  well : it  was 
not  the  first  time  that  he  has  met  with 
me.  It  was  he  that  came  to  me  when 
I dwelt  securely  at  home,  and  that  told 
me  he  would  burn  my  house  over  my 
head  if  I stayed  there. 

Chris.  But  did  not  you  see  the 
house  that  stood  there,  on  the  top  of 
that  hill  on  the  side  of  which  Moses 
met  you  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  and  the  lions  too,  before  I came  at  it.  But,  for  the  lions,  I 
think  they  were  asleep,  for  it  was  about  noon;  and  because  I had  so  much 
of  the  day  before  me,  I passed  by  the  Porter,  and  came  down  the  hill. 

Chris.  He  told  me,  indeed,  that  he  saw  you  go  by;  but  I wish  you  had 
called  at  the  house,  for  they  would  have  showed  you  so  many  rarities,  that 
you  would  scarce  have  forgot  them  to  the  day  of  your  death.  But  pray 
tell  me,  did  you  meet  nobody  in  the  Valley  of  Humility? 

Faith.  Yes,  I met  with  one  Discontent,  who  would  willingly  have  per- 


82 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


suaded  me  to  go  back  again  with  him:  his  reason  was,  for  that  the  valley 
was  altogether  without  honour.  He  told  me,  moreover,  that  there  to  go 
was  the  way  to  disoblige  all  my  friends,  as  Pride,  Arrogancy,  Self-conceit, 
Worldly-Glory,  with  others,  who  he  knew,  as  he  said,  would  be  very  much 
offended  if  I made  such  a fool  of  myself  as  to  wade  through  this  valley. 

Chris.  Well,  and  how  did  you  answer  him? 

Faith.  I told  him  that,  although  all  these  that  he  named  might  claim 
kindred  of  me,  and  that  rightly  (for,  indeed,  they  were  my  relations 
according  to  the  flesh),  yet,  since  I became  a pilgrim,  they  have  disowned 
me,  as  I also  have  rejected  them;  and  therefore  they  were  to  me  now  no 
more  than  if  they  had  never  been  of  my  lineage.  I told  him,  moreover, 
that  as  to  this  valley,  he  had  quite  misrepresented  the  thing;  for  before 
honour  is  humility,  and  a haughty  spirit  before  a fall.  “Therefore,"  said  I, 
“I  had  rather  go  through  this  valley  to  the  honour  that  was  so  accounted 
by  the  wisest,  than  choose  that  which  he  esteemed  most  worthy  of  our 
affections.” 

Chris.  Met  you  with  nothing  else  in  that  valley? 

Faith.  Yes,  I met  with  Shame;  but,  of  all  the  men  that  I met  with  in 
my  pilgrimage,  he,  I think,  bears  the  wrong  name.  The  other  would  be 
said  nay,  after  a little  argumentation  and  somewhat  else;  but  this  bold-faced 
Shame  would  never  have  done. 

Chris.  Why,  what  did  he  say  to  you? 

Faith.  What?  why,  he  objected  against  religion  itself.  He  said  it  was 
a pitiful,  low,  sneaking  business  for  a man  to  mind  religion.  He  said  that 
a tender  conscience  was  an  unmanly  thing;  and  that  for  a man  to  watch 
over  his  words  and  ways,  so  as  to  tie  up  himself  from  that  hectoring  liberty 
that  the  brave  spirits  of  the  times  accustom  themselves  unto,  would  make 
him  the  ridicule  of  the  times.  He  objected  also,  that  but  a few  of  the 
mighty,  rich,  or  wise  were  ever  of  my  opinion ; nor  any  of  them  neither, 
before  they  were  persuaded  to  be  fools,  and  to  be  of  a voluntary  fondness, 
to  venture  the  loss  of  all  for  nobody  else  knows  what.  (I.  Cor.  i.  26;  iii. 
18;  Phil.  iii.  7 — 9;  John  vii.  48.)  He,  moreover,  objected  the  base  and  low 
estate  and  condition  of  those  that  were  chiefly  the  pilgrims  of  the  times  in 
which  they  lived;  also  their  ignorance,  and  want  of  understanding  in  all 
natural  science.  Yea,  he  did  hold  me  to  it  at  that  rate  also,  about  a great 
many  more  things  than  here  I relate;  as,  that  it  was  a shame  to  sit  whining 
and  mourning  under  a sermon,  and  a shame  to  come  sighing  and  groaning 


ARROGANCY.  SELF-CONCEIT.  WORLDLY-GLORY. 


. 


- 


A BOLD  VILLAIN. 


85 


home;  that  it  was  a shame  to  ask  my  neighbour  forgiveness  for  petty  faults, 
or  to  make  restitution  where  1 had  taken  from  any.  He  said  also  that  re- 
ligion made  a man  grow  strange  to  the  great,  because  of  a few  vices  (which 
he  called  by  finer  names),  and  made  him  own  and  respect  the  base,  because 
of  the  same  religious  fraternity;  “and  is  not  this,"  said  he,  “a  shame?” 
Chris.  And  what  did  you  say  to  him? 

Faith.  Say?  I could  not  tell  what  to  say  at  first.  Yea,  he  put  me  so  to 
it  that  my  blood  came  up  in  my  face;  even  this  Shame  fetched  it  up,  and 
had  almost  beat  me  quite  off.  But  at  last  I began  to  consider  that  that 
which  is  highly  esteemed  among  men  is  had  in  abomination  with  God. 
(Luke  xvi.  15.)  And  I thought  again,  This  Shame  tells  me  what  men  are, 
but  it  tells  me  nothing  what  God,  or  the  Word  of  God,  is.  And  I thought, 
moreover,  that  at  the  day  of  doom  we  shall  not  be  doomed  to  death  or  life 
according  to  the  hectoring  spirits  of  the  world,  but  according  to  the  wisdom 
and  law  of  the  Highest.  Therefore,  thought  1,  what  God  says  is  best — is 
best,  though  all  the  men  in  the  world  are  against  it.  Seeing,  then,  that 
God  prefers  His  religion;  seeing  God  prefers  a tender  conscience;  seeing 
they  that  make  themselves  fools  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  are  wisest,  and 
that  the  poor  man  that  loveth  Christ  is  richer  than  the  greatest  man  in  the 
world  that  hates  Him;  Shame,  depart!  thou  art  an  enemy  to  my  salvation. 
Shall  I entertain  thee  against  my  sovereign  Lord?  how,  then,  shall  I look 
Him  in  the  face  at  His  coming?  (Mark  viii.  38.)  Should  I now  be 
ashamed  of  His  way  and  servants,  how  can  I expect  the  blessing?  But, 
indeed,  this  Shame  was  a bold  villain:  I could  scarce  shake  him  out  of  my 
company;  yea,  he  woulcf  be  haunting  of  me,  and  continually  whispering  me 
in  the  ear  with  some  one  or  other  of  the  infirmities  that  attend  religion. 
But  at  last  I told  him  it  was  but  in  vain  to  attempt  further  in  this  business; 
for  those  things  that  he  disdained,  in  those  did  I see  most  glory;  and  so,  at 
last,  I got  past  this  importunate  one.  And  when  I had  shaken  him  off,  then 
I began  to  sing, 

“The  trials  that  those  men  do  meet  withal, 

That  are  obedient  to  the  heavenly  call. 

Are  manifold,  and  suited  to  the  flesh, 

And  come,  and  come,  and  come  again  afresh  : 

That  now,  or  some  time  else,  we  by  them  may 
Be  taken,  overcome,  and  cast  away. 

Oh,  let  the  pilgrims,  let  the  pilgrims  then, 

Be  vigilant  and  quit  themselves  like  men?’’ 


86 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Chris.  I am  glad,  my  brother,  that  thou  didst  withstand  this  villain  so 
bravely:  for  of  all,  as  thou  sayest,  I think  he  has  the  wrong  name;  for  he  is 
so  bold  as  to  follow  us  in  the  streets,  and  to  attempt  to  put  us  to  shame 
before  all  men;  that  is,  to  make  us  ashamed  of  that  which  is  good.  But,  if 
he  was  not  himself  audacious,  he  would  never  attempt  to  do  as  he  does. 
But  let  us  still  resist  him;  for,  notwithstanding  all  his  bravadoes,  he  pro- 
moteth  the  fool,  and  none  else.  “The  wise  shall  inherit  glory,”  said 
Solomon;  “but  shame  shall  be  the  promotion  of  fools."  (Prov.  iii.  35.) 

Faith.  I think  we  must  cry  to  Him  for  help  against  Shame  who  would 
have  us  to  be  valiant  for  truth  upon  the  earth. 

Chris.  You  say  true.  But  did  you  meet  nobody  else  in  that  valley? 

Faith.  No,  not  I;  for  I had  sunshine  all  the  rest  of  the  way  through 
that,  and  also  through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 

Chris.  It  was  well  for  you!  I am  sure  it  fared  far  otherwise  with  me.  I 
had  for  a long  season,  as  soon  almost  as  I entered  into  that  valley,  a 
dreadful  combat  with  that  foul  hend  Apollyon;  yea,  I thought  verily  he 
would  have  killed  me,  especially  when  he  got  me  down,  and  crushed  me 
under  him,  as  if  he  would  have  crushed  me  to  pieces.  For,  as  he  threw 
me,  my  sword  flew  out  of  my  hand;  nay,  he  told  me  he  was  sure  of  me; 
and  I cried  to  God,  and  He  heard  me,  and  delivered  me  out  of  all  my 
troubles.  Then  I entered  into  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and 
had  no  light  for  almost  half  the  way  through  it.  I thought  I should 
have  been  killed  there  over  and  over:  but  at  last  day  broke,  and  the  sun 
rose,  and  I went  through  that  which  was  behind  with  far  more  ease  and 
quiet. 

Moreover,  I saw  in  my  dream  that,  as  they  went  on,  Faithful,  as  he 
chanced  to  look  on  one  side,  saw  a man  whose  name  is  Talkative  walking 
at  a distance  beside  them;  for  in  this  place  there  was  room  enough  for 
them  all  to  walk.  He  was  a tall  man,  and  something  more  comely  at  a 
distance  than  at  hand.  To  this  man  Faithful  addressed  himself  in  this 
manner: 

Faith.  Friend,  whither  away  ? Are  you  going  to  the  heavenly  country? 

Talk.  I am  going  to  that  same  place. 

Faith.  That  is  well;  then  I hope  we  may  have  your  good  company. 

Talk.  With  a very  good  will  will  I be  your  companion. 

Faith.  Come  on,  then,  and  let  us  go  together,  and  let  us  spend  our 
time  in  discoursing  of  things  that  are  profitable. 


“A  man  whose  name  is  Talkative. 


V 


FAITHFUL  CONVERSES  WITH  TALKATIVE. 


89 


Talk.  To  talk  of  things  that  are  good,  to  me  is  very  acceptable,  with 
you  or  with  any  other;  and  I am  glad  that  I have  met  with  those  that 
incline  to  so  good  a work;  for,  to  speak  the  truth,  there  are  but  few  who 
care  thus  to  spend  their  time  as  they  are  in  their  travels,  but  choose  much 
rather  to  be  speaking  of  things  to  no  profit;  and  this  has  been  a trouble 
to  me. 

Faith.  That  is,  indeed,  a thing  to  be  lamented;  for  what  things  so 
worthy  of  the  use  of  the  tongue  and  mouth  of  men  on  earth,  as  are  the 
things  of  the  God  of  heaven  ? 

Talk.  I like  you  wonderfully  well,  for  your  saying  is  full  of  conviction; 
and  I will  add,  What  thing  is  so  pleasant,  and  what  so  profitable,  as  to  talk 
of  the  things  of  God?  What  things  so  pleasant?  that  is,  if  a man  hath  any 
delight  in  things  that  are  wonderful.  For  instance,  if  a man  doth  delight 
to  talk  of  the  history  or  the  mystery  of  things,  or  if  a man  doth  love  to 
talk  of  miracles,  wonders,  or  signs,  where  shall  he  find  things  recorded  so 
delightful,  or  so  sweetly  penned,  as  in  the  Holy  Scripture? 

Faith.  That’s  true;  but  to  be  profited  by  such  things  in  our  talk  should 
be  that  which  we  design. 

Talk.  That  is  it  that  I said;  for  to  talk  of  such  things  is  most  profitable; 
for,  by  so  doing,  a man  may  get  knowledge  of  many  things;  as  of  the 
vanity  of  earthly  things,  and  the  benefit  of  things  above.  Thus  in  general ; 
but  more  particularly,  by  this  a man  may  learn  the  necessity  of  the  new 
birth,  the  insufficiency  of  our  works,  the  need  of  Christ's  righteousness,  etc. 
Besides,  by  this  a man  may  learn  what  it  is  to  repent,  to  believe,  to  pray, 
to  suffer,  or  the  like;  by  this,  also,  a man  may  learn  what  are  the  great 
promises  and  consolations  of  the  Gospel,  to  his  own  comfort.  Further,  by 
this  a man  may  learn  to  refute  false  opinions,  to  vindicate  the  truth,  and 
also  to  instruct  the  ignorant. 

Faith.  All  this  is  true;  and  glad  am  I to  hear  these  things  from 
you. 

Talk.  Alas!  the  want  of  this  is  the  cause  that  so  few  understand  the 
need  of  faith,  and  the  necessity  of  a work  of  grace  in  their  soul,  in  order  to 
eternal  life;  but  ignorantly  live  in  the  works  of  the  law,  by  which  a man  can 
by  no  means  obtain  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Faith.  But,  by  your  leave,  heavenly  knowledge  of  these  is  the  gift 
of  God;  no  man  attaineth  to  them  by  human  industry,  or  only  by  the 
talk  of  them. 


90 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


O brave 
Talkative ! 


O brave 
Talkative ! 


Talk.  All  that  I know  very  well,  for  a man  can  receive 
nothing  except  it  be  given  him  from  heaven;  all  is  of  grace, 
not  of  works.  I could  give  you  a hundred  scriptures  for  the 
confirmation  of  this. 

Faith.  “Well,  then,”  said  Faithful,  “what  is  that  one  thing  that  we  shall 
at  this  time  found  our  discourse  upon?” 

Talk.  What  you  will.  I will  talk  of  things  heavenly  or  things  earthly; 

things  moral  or  things  evangelical;  things  sacred  or  things 
profane;  things  past  or  things  to  come;  things  foreign  or  things 
at  home;  things  more  essential  or  things  circumstantial;  pro- 
vided that  all  be  done  to  our  profit. 

Faith.  Now  did  Faithful  begin  to  wonder;  and,  stepping  to  Christian 
(for  he  walked  all  this  while  by  himself),  he  said  to  him,  but  softly,  “What 
a brave  companion  have  we  got!  Surely  this  man  will  make  a very 
excellent  pilgrim.” 

Chris.  At  this  Christian  modestly  smiled,  and  said,  “This  man  with 
whom  you  are  so  taken  will  beguile  with  this  tongue  of  his  twenty  of  them 
that  know  him  not.” 

Faith.  Do  you  know  him,  then  ? 

Chris.  Know  him?  Yes,  better  than  he  knows  himself. 

Faith.  Pray  what  is  he  ? 

Chris.  His  name  is  Talkative;  he  dwelleth  in  our  town.  I wonder  that 
you  should  be  a stranger  to  him:  only  I consider  that  our  town  is  large. 

Faith.  Whose  son  is  he?  and  whereabout  doth  he  dwell? 

Chris.  He  is  the  son  of  one  Say-well.  He  dwelt  in  Prating  Row,  and 
is  known  to  all  that  are  acquainted  with  him  by  the  name  of  Talkative  of 
Prating  Row;  and  notwithstanding  his  fine  tongue,  he  is  but  a sorry  fellow. 

Faith.  Well,  he  seems  to  be  a very  pretty  man. 

Chris.  That  is,  to  them  that  have  not  a thorough  acquaintance  with  him, 
for  he  is  best  abroad;  near  home  he  is  ugly  enough.  Your  saying  that  he 
is  a pretty  man  brings  to  my  mind  what  I have  observed  in  the  work  of  the 
painter,  whose  pictures  show  best  at  a distance,  but  very  near  more 
unpleasing. 

Faith.  But  I am  ready  to  think  you  do  but  jest,  because  you  smiled. 

Chris.  God  forbid  that  I should  jest  (though  I smiled)  in  this  matter,  or 
that  I should  accuse  any  falsely.  1 will  give  you  a further  discovery  of 
him.  This  man  is  for  any  company,  and  for  any  talk.  As  he  talketh  now 


TA  LKA  FIVE  SELF-  DECEIVED. 


9* 


with  you,  so  will  he  talk  when  he  is  on  the  ale-bench;  and  the  more  drink 
he  hath  in  his  crown,  the  more  of  these  things  he  hath  in  his  mouth. 
Religion  hath  no  place  in  his  heart,  or  house,  or  conversation:  all  he  hath 
lieth  in  his  tongue,  and  his  religion  is  to  make  a noise  therewith. 

Faith.  Say  you  so?  Then  am  I in  this  man  greatly  deceived. 

Chris.  Deceived!  you  may  be  sure  of  it.  Remember  the  proverb,  “They 
say,  and  do  not;”  but  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word,  but  in  power. 
(Matt,  xxiii.  3;  I.  Cor.  iv.  20.)  He  talketh  of  prayer,  of  repentance,  of  faith, 
and  of  the  new  birth ; but  he  knows  but  only  to  talk  of  them.  I have  been 
in  his  family,  and  have  observed  him  both  at  home  and  abroad,  and  I know 
what  I say  of  him  is  the  truth.  His  house  is  as  empty  of  religion  as  the 
white  of  an  egg  is  of  savour.  There  is  there  neither  prayer  nor  sign  of 
repentance  for  sin;  yea,  the  brute,  in  his  kind,  serves  God  far  better  than  he. 
He  is  the  very  stain,  reproach,  and  shame  of  religion  to  all  that  know  him. 
(Rom.  ii.  24,  25.)  It  can  hardly  have  a good  word  in  all  that  end  of  the 
town  where  he  dwells,  through  him.  Thus  say  the  common  people  that 
know  him:  “A  saint  abroad,  and  a devil  at  home.”  His  poor  family  finds  it 
so:  he  is  such  a churl,  such  a railer  at,  and  so  unreasonable  with  his  ser- 
vants, that  they  neither  know  how  to  do  for  or  speak  to  him.  Men  that 
have  any  dealings  with  him  say,  it  is  better  to  deal  with  a Turk  than 
with  him,  for  fairer  dealing  they  shall  have  at  their  hands.  This  Talka- 
tive, if  it  be  possible,  will  go  beyond  them,  defraud,  beguile,  and  over- 
reach them.  Besides,  he  brings  up  his  sons  to  follow  his  steps;  and,  if  he 
findeth  in  any  of  them  a foolish  timorousness  (for  so  he  calls  the  first 
appearance  of  a tender  conscience),  he  calls  them  fools  and  blockheads,  and 
by  no  means  will  employ  them  in  much,  or  speak  to  their  commendation 
before  others.  For  my  part,  I am  of  opinion  that  he  has,  by  his  wicked 
life,  caused  many  to  stumble  and  fall,  and  will  be,  if  God  prevent  not,  the 
ruin  of  many  more. 

Faith.  Well,  my  brother,  I am  bound  to  believe  you,  not  only  because 
you  say  you  know  him,  but  also  because  like  a Christian  you  make  your 
reports  of  men.  For  I cannot  think  you  speak  these  things  of  ill-will,  but 
because  it  is  even  so  as  you  say. 

Chris.  Had  I known  him  no  more  than  you,  I might,  perhaps,  have 
thought  of  him  as  at  first  you  did;  yea,  had  he  received  this  report  at  their 
hands  only  that  are  enemies  to  religion,  I should  have  thought  it  had  been 
a slander,  a lot  that  often  falls  from  bad  men’s  mouths  upon  good  men’s 


92 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


names  and  professions.  But  all  these  things,  yea,  and  a great  many 
more  as  bad,  of  my  own  knowledge  I can  prove  him  guilty  of.  Besides, 
good  men  are  ashamed  of  him:  they  can  neither  call  him  brother  nor 
friend;  the  very  naming  of  him  among  them  makes  them  blush,  if  they 
know  him. 

Faith.  Well,  I see  that  saying  and  doing  are  two  things,  and  hereafter 
I shall  better  observe  this  distinction. 

Chris.  They  are  two  things,  indeed,  and  are  as  diverse  as  are  the  soul 
and  the  body;  for,  as  the  body  without  the  soul  is  but  a dead  carcase,  so 
saying,  if  it  be  alone,  is  but  a dead  carcase  also.  The  soul  of  religion  is 
the  practical  part.  “ Pure  religion  and  undefiled  before  God  and  the  Father 
is  this,  to  visit  the  fatherless  and  the  widows  in  their  affliction,  and  to  keep 
himself  unspotted  from  the  world.”  (James  i.  27;  see  also  verses  22 — 26.) 
This,  Talkative  is  not  aware  of:  he  thinks  that  hearing  and  saying  will 
make  a good  Christian,  and  thus  he  deceiveth  his  own  soul.  Hearing  is 
but  as  the  sowing  of  the  seed;  talking  is  not  sufficient  to  prove  that  fruit  is 
indeed  in  the  heart  and  life.  And  let  us  assure  ourselves  that,  at  the  day 
of  doom,  men  shall  be  judged  according  to  their  fruits.  (Matt.  xiii.  23.) 
It  will  not  be  said  then,  Did  you  believe?  but,  Were  you  doers,  or  talkers 
only?  and  accordingly  shall  they  be  judged.  The  end  of  the  world  is 
compared  to  our  harvest  (Matt.  xiii.  30);  and  you  know  men  at  harvest 
regard  nothing  but  fruit.  Not  that  anything  can  be  accepted  that  is  not  of 
faith;  but  I speak  this  to  show  you  how  insignificant  the  profession  of 
Talkative  will  be  at  that  day. 

Faith.  This  brings  to  my  mind  that  of  Moses,  by  which  he  described 
the  beast  that  is  clean.  (Lev.  xi. ; Deut.  xiv.)  He  is  such  a one  that 
parteth  the  hoof  and  cheweth  the  cud;  not  that  parteth  the  hoof  only, 
or  that  cheweth  the  cud  only.  The  hare  cheweth  the  cud,  but  yet  is 
unclean,  because  he  parteth  not  the  hoof.  And  this  truly  resembleth 
Talkative:  he  cheweth  the  cud,  he  seeketh  knowledge,  he  cheweth  upon 
the  Word;  but  he  divideth  not  the  hoof,  he  parteth  not  with  the  way  of 
sinners,  but,  as  the  hare,  retaineth  the  foot  of  the  dog  or  bear,  and  there- 
fore he  is  unclean. 

Chris.  You  have  spoken,  for  aught  I know,  the  true  Gospel  sense  of 
those  texts.  And  I will  add  another  thing:  Paul  calleth  some  men,  yea, 
and  those  great  talkers  too,  sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cymbals  (I.  Cor. 
xiii.  1 — 3);  that  is,  as  he  expounds  them  in  another  place,  things  without 


FAITHFUL  DISPUTES  WITH  TALKATIVE. 


93 


life,  giving  sound.  (I.  Cor.  xiv.  7.)  Things  without  life;  that  is,  without 
the  true  faith  and  grace  of  the  Gospel,  and,  consequently,  things  that  shall 
never  be  placed  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  among  those  that  are  the  chil- 
dren of  life;  though  their  sound,  by  their  talk,  be  as  if  it  were  the  tongue 
or  voice  of  an  angel. 

Faith.  Well,  I was  not  so  fond  of  his  company  at  first,  but  I am  as  sick 
of  it  now.  What  shall  we  do  to  be  rid  of  him? 

Chris.  Take  my  advice,  and  do  as  I bid  you,  and  you  shall  find  that  he 
will  soon  be  sick  of  your  company  too,  except  God  shall  touch  his  heart 
and  turn  it. 

Faith.  What  would  you  have  me  to  do? 

Chris.  Why,  go  to  him,  and  enter  into  some  serious  discourse  about  the 
power  of  religion,  and  ask  him  plainly  (when  he  has  approved  of  it,  for 
that  he  will)  whether  this  thing  be  set  up  in  his  heart,  house,  or  conver- 
sation. 

Faith.  Then  Faithful  stepped  forward  again,  and  said  to  Talkative, 
“Come,  what  cheer?  How  is  it  now?" 

Talk.  Thank  you,  well : I thought  we  should  have  had  a great  deal  of 
talk  by  this  time. 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  will,  we  will  fall  to  it  now;  and,  since  you  left  it 
with  me  to  state  the  question,  let  it  be  this:  How  doth  the  saving  grace  of 
God  discover  itself  when  it  is  in  the  heart  of  man? 

Talk.  I perceive,  then,  that  our  talk  must  be  about  the  Talkative’s 
power  of  things.  Well,  it  is  a very  good  question,  and  I shall  fals^dlsf"f 
be  willing  to  answer  you.  And  take  my  answer  in  brief,  thus.  woAof0 
First,  where  the  grace  of  God  is  in  the  heart,  it  causeth  there  a grace, 
great  outcry  against  sin.  Secondly, — 

Faith.  Nay,  hold;  let  us  consider  of  one  at  once.  I think  you  should 
rather  say,  it  shows  itself  by  inclining  the  soul  to  abhor  its  sin. 

Talk.  Why,  what  difference  is  there  between  crying  out  against  and 
abhorring  of  sin  ? 

Faith.  Oh!  a great  deal.  A man  may  cry  out  against  sin  of  policy;  but 
he  cannot  abhor  it  but  by  virtue  of  a godly  'antipathy  against  it.  I have 
heard  many  cry  out  against  sin  in  the  pulpit,  who  yet  can 
abide  it  well  enough  in  the  heart,  house,  and  conversation.  To  cry  out 
Joseph’s  mistress  cried  out  with  a loud  voice,  as  if  she  had  (J' 

been  very  chaste;  but  she  would  willingly,  notwithstanding  grace. 


94 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


that,  have  committed  uncleanness  with  him.  (Gen.  xxxix.  12 — 15.)  Some 
cry  out  against  sin,  even  as  the  mother  cries  out  against  her  child  in  her 
lap,  when  she  calleth  it  slut  and  naughty  girl,  and  then  falls  to  hugging  and 
kissing  it. 


Talk.  You  lie  at  the  catch,  I perceive. 

Faith.  No,  not  I;  I am  only  for  setting  things  right.  But  what  is  the 
second  thing  whereby  you  would  prove  a discovery  of  a work  of  grace  in 
the  heart? 

Talk.  Great  knowledge  of  Gospel  mysteries. 

Faith.  This  sign  should  have  been  first;  but,  first  or  last,  it  is  also  false; 
for  knowledge,  great  knowledge,  may  be  obtained  in  the  mysteries  of  the 
Gospel,  and  yet  no  work  of  grace  in  the  soul.  Yea,  if  a man 
Great  know-  have  all  knowledge,  he  may  yet  be  nothing,  and  so,  conse- 
ofd grace. S'Sn  quently,  be  no  child  of  God.  (I.  Cor.  xiii.  2.)  When  Christ 
said,  “Do  ye  know  all  these  things?”  and  the  disciples  had 
answered,  “Yes,”  He  added,  “Blessed  are  ye  if  ye  do  them.”  He  doth  not 
lay  the  blessing  in  the  knowledge  of  them,  but  in  the  doing  of  them.  For 
there  is  a knowledge  that  is  not  attended  with  doing:  “He  that  knoweth 
his  master’s  will,  and  doeth  it  not.”  A man  may  know  like  an  angel,  and 
yet  be  no  Christian;  therefore  your  sign  of  it  is  not  true.  Indeed,  to  know 
is  a thing  that  pleaseth  talkers  and  boasters ; but  to  do  is  that  which 
pleaseth  God.  Not  that  the  heart  can  be  good  without  knowledge,  for, 
without  that,  the  heart  is  naught.  There  is,  therefore,  knowledge  and 
knowledge:  knowledge  that  resteth  in  the  bare  speculation  of  things,  and 
knowledge  that  is  accompanied  with  the  grace  and  faith  of  love,  which  puts 
a man  upon  doing  even  the  will  of  God  from  the  heart.  The  first  of  these 
will  serve  the  talker;  but  without  the  other  the  true  Christian  is  not  content. 
“Give  me  understanding,  and  I shall  keep  Thy  law;  yea,  I shall  observe  it 
with  my  whole  heart.”  (Psa.  cxix.  34.) 

Talk.  You  lie  at  the  catch  again:  this  is  not  for  edification. 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  please,  propound  another  sign  how  this  work  of 
grace  discovereth  itself  where  it  is. 

Talk.  Not  I;  for  I see  we  shall  not  agree. 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  will  not,  will  you  give  me  leave  to  do  it? 

Talk.  You  may  use  your  liberty. 

Faith.  A work  of  grace  in  the  soul  discovereth  itself  either  to  him  that 
hath  it  or  to  standers  by. 


THE  SECOND  QUESTION. 


95 


To  him  that  hath  it  thus:  It  gives  him  conviction  of  sin,  especially  of  the 
defilement  of  his  nature  and  the  sin  of  unbelief;  for  the  sake 
of  which  he  is  sure  to  be  damned,  if  he  findeth  not  mercy  at  0ne  g?od 

J sign  of  grace. 

God’s  hand  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  This  sight  and  sense  of 
things  worketh  in  him  sorrow  and  shame  for  sin.  (Psa.  xxxviii.  18;  Jer. 
xxxi.  19;  John  xvi.  8;  Rom.  vii.  24;  Mark  xvi.  16;  Gal.  ii.  16;  Rev.  i.  5,  6.) 
lie  findeth,  moreover,  revealed  in  him  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  and>the 
absolute  necessity  of  closing  with  Him  for  life;  at  the  which  he  findeth 
hungerings  and  thirstings  after  Him;  to  which  hungerings,  etc.,  the  promise 
is  made.  Now,  according  to  the  strength  or  weakness  of  his  faith  in  his 
Saviour,  so  are  his  joy  and  peace,  so  is  his  love  to  holiness,  so  are  his 
desires  to  know  Him  more,  and  also  to  serve  Him  in  this  world.  But, 
though  I say  it  discovereth  itself  thus  unto  him,  yet  it  is  but  seldom  that 
he  is  able  to  conclude  that  this  is  a work  of  grace;  because  his  corruptions 
now,  and  his  abused  reason,  make  his  mind  to  misjudge  in  this  matter: 
therefore  in  him  that  hath  this  work  there  is  required  a very  sound  judg- 
ment, before  he  can  with  steadiness  conclude  that  this  is  a work  of  grace. 
(John  xvi.  9;  Gal.  ii.  15,  16;  Acts  iv.  12;  Matt.  v.  6;  Rev.  xxi.  6.) 

To  others  it  is  thus  discovered: 

1.  By  an  experimental  confession  of  his  faith  in  Christ.  2.  By  a life 
answerable  to  that  confession;  to  wit,  a life  of  holiness — heart  holiness, 
family  holiness  (if  he  hath  a family),  and  by  conversation  holiness  in  the 
world;  which  in  the  general  teacheth  him  inwardly  to  abhor  his  sin,  and 
himself  for  that,  in  secret;  to  suppress'  it  in  his  family,  and  to  promote 
holiness  in  the  world;  not  by  talk  only,  as  a hypocrite  or  talkative  person 
may  do,  but  by  a practical  subjection  in  faith  and  love  to  the  power  of  the 
Word.  (Job  xlii.  5,  6;  Psa.  1.  23;  Ezek.  xx.  43;  Matt.  v.  8;  John  xiv.  15; 
Rom.  x.  10;  Ezek.  xxxvi.  25;  Phil.  i.  27;  iii.  17.)  And  now,  sir,  as  to  this 
brief  description  of  the  work  of  grace,  and  also  the  discovery  of  it,  if  you 
have  aught  to  object,  object;  if  not,  then  give  me  leave  to  propound  to  you 
a second  question. 

Talk.  Nay,  my  part  is  not  now  to  object,  but  to  hear;  let  me,  therefore, 
have  your  second  question. 

Faith.  It  is  this:  Do  you  experience  the  first  part  of  this  description  of 
it?  And  do  your  life  and  conversation  testify  the  same?  Or  standeth 
your  religion  in  word  or  in  tongue,  and  not  in  deed  and  in  truth?  Pray,  if 
you  incline  to  answer  me  in  this,  say  no  more  than  you  know  the  God 


96 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Another  above  will  say  Amen  to,  and  also  nothing-  but  what  your  con- 
grace.Slgn  ° science  can  justify  you  in;  for  not  he  that  commendeth  himself 
is  approved,  but  whom  the  Lord  commendeth.  Besides,  to 
say  I am  thus  and  thus,  when  my  conversation  and  all  my  neighbours  tell 
me  I lie,  is  great  wickedness. 

Talk.  Then  Talkative  at  first  began  to  blush;  but,  recovering  himself, 
thus  he  replied : “You  come  now  to  experience,  to  conscience,  and  God ; 
and  to  appeal  to  Him  for  justification  of  what  is  spoken.  This  kind  of 
discourse  I did  not  expect;  nor  am  I disposed  to  give  an  answer  to  such 
questions,  because  I count  not  myself  bound  thereto,  unless  you  take  upon 
you  to  be  a catechizer;  and  though  you  should  do  so,  yet  I may  refuse  to 
make  you  my  judge.  But,  I pray,  will  you  tell  me  why  you  ask  me  such 
questions?” 

Faith.  Because  I saw  you  forward  to  talk,  and  because  I knew  not  that 
you  had  aught  else  but  notion.  Besides,  to  tell  you  all  the  truth,  I have 
heard  of  you  that  you  are  a man  whose  religion  lies  in  talk,  and  that  your 
conversation  gives  this  your  mouth-profession  the  lie.  They  say  you  are  a 
spot  among  Christians,  and  that  religion  fareth  the  worse  for  your  ungodly 
conversation;  that  some  already  have  stumbled  at  your  wicked  ways,  and 
that  more  are  in  danger  of  being  destroyed  thereby:  your  religion,  and  an 
alehouse,  and  covetousness,  and  uncleanness,  and  swearing,  and  lying,  and 
vain  company-keeping,  etc.,  will  stand  together.  The  proverb  is  true  of 
you  which  is  said  of  a whore;  to  wit,  that  “she  is  a shame  to  all  women;” 
so  you  are  a shame  to  all  professors. 

Talk.  Since  you  are  ready  to  take  up  reports,  and  to  judge  so  rashly  as 
you  do,  I cannot  but  conclude  you  are  some  peevish  or  melancholy  man, 
not  fit  to  be  discoursed  with;  and  so  adieu. 

Chris.  Then  came  up  Christian,  and  said  to  his  brother,  “ I told  you  how 
it  would  happen;  your  words  and  his  lusts  could  not  agree.  He  had  rather 
leave  your  company  than  reform  his  life.  But  he  is  gone,  as  I said:  let  him 
go;  the  loss  is  no  man’s  but  his  own:  he  has  saved  us  the  trouble  of  going 
from  him;  for  he  continuing  (as  I suppose  he  will  do)  as  he  is,  he  would 
have  been  but  a blot  in  our  company.  Besides,  the  Apostle  says,  ‘From 
such  withdraw  thyself.’  ” 

Faith.  But  I am  glad  we  had  this  little  discourse  with  him;  it  may 
happen  that  he  will  think  of  it  again:  however,  I have  dealt  plainly  with 
him,  and  so  am  clear  of  his  blood,  if  he  perisheth. 


CHRISTIAN  OVERTAKEN  BY  EVANGELIST 


97 


Chris.  You  did  well  to  talk  so  plainly  to  him  as  you  did.  There  is  but 
little  of  this  faithful  dealing  with  men  now-a-days ; and  that  makes  religion 
to  stink  so  in  the  nostrils  of  many  as  it  doth;  for  they  are  these  talkative 
fools,  whose  religion  is  only  in  word,  and  are  debauched  and  vain  in  their 
conversation,  that,  being  so  much  admitted  into  the  fellowship  of  the  godly, 
do  puzzle  the  world,  blemish  Christianity,  and  grieve  the  sincere.  I wish 
that  all  men  would  deal  with  such  as  you  have  done;  then  should  they 
either  be  made  more  conformable  to  religion,  or  the  company  of  saints 
would  be  too  hot  for  them. 

Faith.  Then  did  Faithful  say, 


“ How  Talkative  at  first  lifts  up  his  plumes! 

How  bravely  doth  he  speak!  How  he  presumes 
To  drive  down  all  before  him!  But  so  soon 
As  Faithful  talks  of  heart-work,  like  the  moon 
That’s  past  the  full,  into  the  wane  he  goes; 

And  so  will  all  but  he  who  heart-work  knows.’- 


Thus  they  went  on,  talking  of  what  they  had  seen  by  the  way,  and  so 
made  that  way  easy,  which  would  otherwise,  no  doubt,  have  been  tedious  to 
them ; for  now  they  went  through  a wilderness. 

Now,  when  they  were  got  almost  quite  out  of  this  wilderness,  Faithful 
chanced  to  cast  his  eye  back,  and  espied  one  coming  after  him,  and  he 
knew  him.  “Oh!”  said  Faithful  to  his  brother,  “who  comes  yonder?” 
Then  Christian  looked,  and  said,  “ It  is  my  good  friend  Evangelist.”  “Ay, 
and  my  good  friend  too,”  said  Faithful;  “for  it  was  he  that  set  me  the  way 
to  the  gate.”  Now  was  Evangelist  come  up  unto  them,  and  thus  saluted 
them : 

Evan.  Peace  be  with  you,  dearly  beloved,  and  peace  be  to  your  helpers. 

Chris.  Welcome,  welcome,  my  good  Evangelist:  the  sight  of  thy  coun- 
tenance brings  to  my  remembrance  thy  ancient  kindness  and  unwearied 
labouring  for  my  eternal  good. 

Faith.  “And  a thousand  times  welcome,”  said  good  Faithful:  “thy 
company,  O sweet  Evangelist,  how  desirable  is  it  to  us  poor  pilgrims!” 

Evan.  Then  said  Evangelist,  “ How  hath  it  fared  with  you,  my  friends, 
since  the  time  of  our  last  parting?  What  have  you  met  with,  and  how 
have  you  behaved  yourselves?” 

Then  Christian  and  Faithful  told  him  of  all  things  that  had  happened  to 


98 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


them  in  the  way;  and  how,  and  with  what  difficulty,  they  had  arrived  to 
that  place. 

Evan.  “ Right  glad  am  I,”  said  Evangelist,  “ not  that  you  met  with  trials, 
but  that  you  have  been  victors,  and  for  that  you  have,  notwithstanding 
many  weaknesses,  continued  in  the  way  to  this  very  day.  I say,  right  glad 
am  I of  this  thing,  and  that  for  my  own  sake  and  yours.  I have  sowed, 
and  you  have  reaped;  and  the  day  is  coming  when  ‘both  he  that  sowed  and 
they  that  reaped  shall  rejoice  together'  (John  iv.  36);  that  is,  if  you  hold 
out;  ‘for  in  due  season  you  shall  reap,  if  you  faint  not.’  (Gal.  vi.  9.)  The 
crown  is  before  you,  and  it  is  an  uncorruptible  one:  so  run  that  you  may 
obtain  it.  (I.  Cor.  ix.  24 — 27.)  Some  there  be  that  set  out  for  this  crown, 
and  after  they  have  gone  far  for  it,  another  comes  in  and  takes  it  from 
them:  ‘Hold  fast,  therefore,  that  you  have;  let  no  man  take  your  crown.’ 
(Rev.  iii.  11.)  You  are  not  yet  out  of  the  gunshot  of  the  devil;  you  have 
not  yet  ‘resisted  unto  blood,  striving  against  sin.’  Let  the  kingdom  be 
always  before  you,  and  believe  steadfastly  concerning  things  that  are 
invisible.  Let  nothing  that  is  on  this  side  the  other  world  get  within  you. 
And,  above  all,  look  well  to  your  own  hearts,  and  to  the  lusts  thereof;  for 
they  are  ‘deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately  wicked.’  Set  your 
faces  like  a flint:  you  have  all  power  in  heaven  and  earth  on  your  side.” 

Then  Christian  thanked  him  for  his  exhortation,  but  told  him  withal  that 
they  would  have  him  speak  further  to  them,  for  their  help  the  rest  of  the 
way;  and  the  rather,  for  that  they  well  knew  that  he  was  a prophet,  and 
could  tell  them  of  things  that  might  happen  unto  them,  and  also  how  they 
might  resist  and  overcome  them.  To  which  request  Faithful  also  consented. 
So  Evangelist  began  as  followeth: 

Evan.  My  sons,  you  have  heard,  in  the  words  of  the  truth  of  the  Gospel, 
that  you  must  “through  many  tribulations  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven ; ” and  again,  that  “in  every  city  bonds  and  afflictions  await  you;” 
and  therefore  you  cannot  expect  that  you  should  go  long  on  your  pilgrim- 
age without  them  in  some  sort  or  other.  You  have  found  something  of 
the  truth  of  these  testimonies  upon  you  already,  and  more  will  immediately 
follow;  for  now,  as  you  see,  you  are  almost  out  of  this  wilderness,  and 
therefore  you  will  soon  come  into  a town  that  you  will  by-and-bye  see 
before  you;  and  in  that  town  you  will  be  hardly  beset  with  enemies,  who 
will  strain  hard  but  they  will  kill  you;  and  be  you  sure  that  one  or  both  of 
you  must  seal  the  testimony  which  you  hold  with  blood:  but  be  you 


‘At  the  town  there  is  a fair  kept,  called  Vanity  Fair.' 


THE  PILGRIMS  REACH  THE  TOWN  OF  RANI  TV. 


loi 


faithful  unto  death,  and  the  King  will  give  you  a crown  of  life.  He  that 
shall  die  there,  although  his  death  will  be  unnatural,  and  his 
pain,  perhaps,  great,  he  will  yet  have  the  better  of  his  fellow;  He  whose  lot 
not  only  because  he  will  be  arrived  at  the  Celestial  City  Ihere'tQ6 
soonest,  but  because  he  will  escape  many  miseries  that  the  suffer,  will 
other  will  meet  with  in  the  rest  of  his  journey.  But  when  you  bettered  his 
are  come  to  the  town,  and  shall  find  fulfilled  what  I have  here  brother, 
related,  then  remember  your  friend,  and  quit  yourselves  like 
men,  and  commit  the  keeping  of  your  souls  to  God  in  well-doing,  as  unto 
a faithful  Creator. 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream,  that,  when  they  were  got  out  of  the  wilderness, 
they  presently  saw  a town  before  them,  and  the  name  of  that  town  is 
Vanity;  and  at  the  town  there  is  a fair  kept,  called  Vanity  Fair.  It  is  kept 
all  the  year  long.  It  beareth  the  name  of  Vanity  Fair,  because  the  town 
where  it  is  kept  is  lighter  than  vanity  (Eccl.  ii.  1 1 — 17;  Psa.  lxii.  9),  and  also 
because  all  that  is  there  sold,  or  that  cometh  thither,  is  vanity;  as  is  the 
saying  of  the  Wise,  “All  that  cometh  is  vanity.”  (Eccl.  xi.  8;  see  also 
i.  2 — 14;  ii.  11 — 17;  Isa.  xl.  17.) 

This  fair  is  no  new-erected  business,  but  a thing  of  ancient  standing.  I 
will  show  you  the  original  of  it. 

Almost  five  thousand  years  ago,  there  were  pilgrims  walking  to  the 
Celestial  City,  as  these  two  honest  persons  are;  and  Beelzebub,  Apollyon, 
and  Legion,  with  their  companions,  perceiving  by  the  path  that  the  pilgrims 
made  that  their  way  to  the  city  lay  through  this  town  of  Vanity,  they  con- 
trived here  to  set  up  a fair;  a fair  wherein  should  be  sold  all  sorts  of  vanity, 
and  that  it  should  last  all  the  year  long.  Therefore  at  this  fair  are  all  such 
merchandise  sold  as  houses,  lands,  trades,  places,  honours,  preferments, 
titles,  countries,  kingdoms,  lusts,  pleasures,  and  delights  of  all  sorts,  as 
whores,  bawds,  wives,  husbands,  children,  masters,  servants,  lives,  blood, 
bodies,  souls,  silver,  gold,  pearls,  precious  stones,  and  what  not. 

And  moreover,  at  this  fair  there  are  at  all  times  to  be  seen  jugglings, 
cheats,  games,  plays,  fools,  apes,  knaves,  and  rogues,  and  that  of  every  kind. 

Here  are  to  be  seen,  too,  and  that  for  nothing,  thefts,  murders,  adulteries, 
false  swearers,  and  that  of  a blood-red  colour. 

And,  as  in  other  fairs  of  less  moment,  there  are  several  rows  and  streets 
under  their  proper  names,  where  such  and  such  wares  are  vended ; so  here 
likewise  you  have  the  proper  places,  rows,  streets  (namely,  countries  and 


102 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


kingdoms),  where  the  wares  of  this  fair  are  soonest  to  be  found.  Here  are 
the  Britain  Row,  the  French  Row,  the  Italian  Row,  the  Spanish  Row, 
the  German  Row,  where  several  sorts  of  vanities  are  to  be  sold.  But,  as 
in  other  fairs  some  one  commodity  is  as  the  chief  of  all  the  fair,  so  the 
ware  of  Rome  and  her  merchandise  are  greatly  promoted  in  this  fair;  only 
our  English  nation,  with  some  others,  have  taken  dislike  thereat. 

Now,  as  I said,  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City  lies  just  through  this  town 
where  this  lusty  fair  is  kept;  and  he  that  would  go  to  the  city,  and  yet  not 
go  through  this  town,  “must  needs  go  out  of  the  world.”  (I.  Cor.  v.  io.) 
The  Prince  of  princes  Himself,  when  here,  went  through  this  town  to  His 
own  country,  and  that  upon  a fair  day  too;  yea,  and  as  I think,  it  was 
Beelzebub,  the  chief  lord  of  this  fair,  that  invited  Him  to  buy  of  his  vanities; 
yea,  would  have  made  Him  lord  of  the  fair,  would  He  but  have  done  him 
reverence  as  He  went  through  the  town.  Yea,  because  He  was  such  a 
person  of  honour,  Beelzebub  had  Him  from  street  to  street,  and  showed 
Him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  in  a little  time,  that  he  might,  if 
possible,  allure  that  Blessed  One  to  cheapen  and  buy  some  of  his  vanities; 
but  He  had  no  mind  to  the  merchandise,  and  therefore  left  the  town 
without  laying  out  so  much  as  one  farthing  upon  these  vanities.  (Matt.  iv. 
8— io;  Luke  iv.  5 — 8.)  This  fair,  therefore,  is  an  ancient  thing  of  long 
standing,  and  a very  great  fair. 

Now,  these  pilgrims,  as  I said,  must  needs  go  through  this  fair.  Well,  so 
they  did;  but,  behold,  even  as  they  entered  into  the  fair,  all  the  people  in 
the  fair  were  moved,  and  the  town  itself,  as  it  were,  in  a hubbub  about 
them,  and  that  for  several  reasons ; for, 

First, — The  pilgrims  were  clothed  with  such  kind  of  raiment  as  was 
diverse  from  the  raiment  of  any  that  traded  in  that  fair.  The  people, 
therefore,  of  the  fair,  made  a great  gazing  upon  them : some  said  they  were 
fools;  some,  they  were  bedlams;  and  some,  they  were  outlandish  men.  (I. 
Cor.  ii.  7,  8.) 

Secondly, — And,  as  they  wondered  at  their  apparel,  so  they  did  likewise 
at  their  speech;  for  few  could  understand  what  they  said.  They  naturally 
spoke  the  language  of  Canaan ; but  they  that  kept  the  fair  were  the  men  of 
this  world.  So  that  from  one  end  of  the  fair  to  the  other,  they  seemed 
barbarians  each  to  the  other. 

Thirdly, — But  that  which  did  not  a little  amuse  the  merchandisers  was, 
that  these  pilgrims  set  very  light  by  all  their  wares.  They  cared  not  so 


LORD  HATE-GOOD. 


THE  PILGRIMS  AT  VANITY  FAIR. 


105 


much  as  to  look  upon  them;  and  if  they  called  upon  them  to  buy,  they 
would  put  their  fingers  in  their  ears,  and  cry,  “Turn  away  mine  eyes  from 
beholding  vanity  ” (Ps.  cxix.  37),  and  look  upwards,  signifying  that  their 
trade  and  traffic  were  in  heaven.  (Phil.  iii.  20.) 

One  chanced,  mockingly,  beholding  the  carriage  of  the  men,  to  say  unto 
them,  “What  will  you  buy ?”  But  they,  looking  gravely  upon  him,  said, 
“We  buy  the  truth.”  (Prov.  xxiii.  23.)  At  that  there  was  an  occasion 
taken  to  despise  the  men  the  more;  some  mocking,  some  taunting,  some 
speaking  reproachfully,  and  some  calling  on  others  to  smite  them.  At  last 
things  came  to  a hubbub  and  great  stir  in  the  fair,  insomuch  that  all  order 
was  confounded.  Now  was  word  presently  brought  to  the  great  one  of  the 
fair,  who  quickly  came  down,  and  deputed  some  of  his  most  trusty  friends 
to  take  these  men  into  examination  about  whom  the  fair  was  almost  over- 
turned. So  the  men  were  brought  to  examination;  and  they  that  sat  upon 
them  asked  them  whence  they  came,  whither  they  went,  and  what  they  did 
there  in  such  an  unusual  garb.  The  men  told  them  that  they  were  pilgrims 
and  strangers  in  the  world,  and  that  they  were  going  to  their  own  country, 
which  was  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  (Ideb.  xi.  13 — 16),  and  that  they  had 
given  no  occasion  to  the  men  of  the  town,  nor  yet  to  the  merchandisers, 
thus  to  abuse  them,  and  to  let  them  in  their  journey,  except  it  was  for  that, 
when  one  asked  them  what  they  would  buy,  they  said  they  would  buy  the 
truth.  But  they  that  were  appointed  to  examine  them  did  not  believe  them 
to  be  any  other  than  bedlams  and  mad,  or  else  such  as  came  to  put  all 
things  into  a confusion  in  the  fair.  Therefore  they  took  them  and  beat 
them,  and  besmeared  them  with  dirt,  and  then  put  them  into  the  cage,  that 
they  might  be  made  a spectacle  to  all  the  men  of  the  fair.  There,  there- 
fore, they  lay  for  some  time,  and  were  made  the  objects  of  any  man’s  sport, 
or  malice,  or  revenge;  the  great  one  of  the  fair  laughing  still  at  all  that 
befell  them.  But,  the  men  being  patient,  and  “not  rendering  railing  for 
railing,  but  contrariwise  blessing,”  and  giving  good  words  for  bad,  and 
kindness  for  injuries  done,  some  men  in  the  fair  that  were  more  observing 
and  less  prejudiced  than  the  rest,  began  to  check  and  blame  the  baser  sort 
for  their  continual  abuses  done  by  them  to  the  men.  They,  therefore,  in  an 
angry  manner,  let  fly  at  them  again,  counting  them  as  bad  as  the  men  in 
the  cage,  and  telling  them  that  they  seemed  confederates,  and  should  be 
made  partakers  of  their  misfortunes.  The  others  replied,  that,  for  aught 
they  could  see,  the  men  were  quiet  and  sober,  and  intended  nobody  any 


io6 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


harm;  and  that  there  were  many  that  traded  in  their  fair  that  were  more 
worthy  to  be  put  into  the  cage,  yea,  and  pillory  too,  than  were  the  men  that 
they  had  abused.  Thus,  after  divers  words  had  passed  on  both  sides  (the 
men  behaving  themselves  all  the  while  very  wisely  and  soberly  before 
them),  they  fell  to  some  blows,  anti  did  harm  to  one  another.  Then  were 
these  two  poor  men  brought  before  their  examiners  again,  and  there 
charged  as  being  guilty  of  the  late  hubbub  that  had  been  in  the  fair.  So 
they  beat  them  pitifully,  and  hanged  irons  upon  them,  and  led  them  in 
chains  up  and  down  the  fair,  for  an  example  and  terror  to  others,  lest  any 
should  speak  in  their  behalf,  or  join  themselves  unto  them.  But  Christian 
and  Faithful  behaved  themselves  yet  more  wisely,  and  received  the 
ignominy  and  shame  that  were  cast  upon  them  with  so  much  meekness 
and  patience,  that  it  won  to  their  side  (though  but  few  in  comparison  of  the 
rest)  several  of  the  men  in  the  fair.  This  put  the  other  party  in  yet  a 
greater  rage,  insomuch  that  they  concluded  the  death  of  these  two  men. 
Wherefore  they  threatened  that  neither  cage  nor  irons  should  serve  their 
turn,  but  that  they  should  die  for  the  abuse  they  had  done,  and  for  deluding 
the  men  of  the  fair. 

Then  were  they  remanded  to  the  cage  again,  until  further  order  should 
be  taken  with  them.  So  they  put  them  in,  and  made  their  feet  fast  in  the 

stocks. 

Here,  therefore,  they  called  again  to  mind  what  they  had  heard  from  their 
faithful  friend  Evangelist,  and  were  more  confirmed  in  their  way  and 
sufferings,  by  what  he  told  them  would  happen  to  them.  They  also  now 
comforted  each  other,  that  whose  lot  it  was  to  suffer,  even  he  should  have 
the  best  of  it;  therefore  each  man  secretly  wished  he  might  have  that  pre- 
ferment. But,  committing  themselves  to  the  all-wise  disposal  of  Him  that 
ruleth  all  things,  with  much  content  they  abode  in  the  condition  in  which 
they  were,  until  they  should  be  otherwise  disposed  of. 

Then  a convenient  time  being  appointed,  they  brought  them  forth  to 
their  trial,  in  order  to  their  condemnation.  When  the  time  was  come,  they 
were  brought  before  their  enemies,  and  arraigned.  The  judge’s  name  was 
Lord  Ilate-good:  their  indictment  was  one  and  the  same  in  substance, 
though  somewhat  varying  in  form;  the  contents  whereof  were  this:  “That 
they  were  enemies  to  and  disturbers  of  their  trade;  that  they  had  made 
commotions  and  divisions  in  the  town,  and  had  won  a party  to  their  own 
most  dangerous  opinions,  in  contempt  of  the  law  of  their  prince.” 


THE  TRIAL. 


PICKTHANK. 

The  Witnesses. 


THE  TRIAL. 


109 


Then  Faithful  began  to  answer,  that  he  had  only  set  himself  against  that 
which  had  set  itself  against  Him  that  is  higher  than  the  highest.  “And,” 
said  he,  “as  for  disturbance,  I make  none,  being  myself  a man  of  peace; 
the  parties  that  were  won  to  us,  were  won  by  beholding  our  truth  and 
innocence,  and  they  are  only  turned  from  the  worse  to  the  better.  And,  as 
to  the  king  you  talk  of,  since  he  is  Beelzebub,  the  enemy  of  our  Lord,  I 
defy  him  and  all  his  angels.” 

Then  proclamation  was  made,  that  they  that  had  aught  to  say  for  their 
lord  the  king  against  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  should  forthwith  appear  and 
give  in  their  evidence.  So  there  came  in  three  witnesses;  to  wit,  Envy, 
Superstition,  and  Pickthank.  They  were  then  asked  if  they  knew  the 
prisoner  at  the  bar,  and  what  they  had  to  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against 
him. 

Then  stood  forth  Envy,  and  said  to  this  effect:  “My  lord,  I have  known 
this  man  a long  time,  and  will  attest  upon  my  oath  before  this  honourable 
bench  that  he  is — ” 

Judge.  Hold!  Give  him  his  oath. 

Envy.  So  they  sware  him.  Then  said  he,  “My  lord,  this  man,  notwith- 
standing his  plausible  name,  is  one  of  the  vilest  men  in  our  country.  He 
neither  regardeth  prince  nor  people,  law  nor  custom,  but  doth  all  that  he 
can  to  possess  all  men  with  certain  of  his  disloyal  notions,  which  he  in  the 
general  calls  principles  of  faith  and  holiness.  And  in  particular,  I heard 
him  once  myself  affirm  that  Christianity  and  the  customs  of  our  town  of 
Vanity  were  diametrically  opposite,  and  could  not  be  reconciled.  By  which 
saying,  my  lord,  he  doth  at  once  not  only  condemn  all  our  laudable  doings, 
but  us  in  the  doing  of  them.” 

Judge.  Then  did  the  judge  say  to  him,  “Hast  thou  any  more  to  say?” 

Envy.  My  lord,  I could  say  much  more,  only  I would  not  be  tedious  to 
the  court.  Yet,  if  need  be,  when  the  other  gentlemen  have  given  in  their 
evidence,  rather  than  anything  shall  be  wanting  that  will  dispatch  him,  I 
will  enlarge  my  testimony  against  him.  So  he  was  bid  stand  by. 

Then  they  called  Superstition,  and  bade  him  look  upon  the  prisoner. 
They  also  asked  what  he  could  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against  him. 
Then  they  sware  him:  so  he  began: 

Super.  My  lord,  I have  no  great  acquaintance  with  this  man,  nor  do  I 
desire  to  have  further  knowledge  of  him.  However,  this  I know,  that  he 
is  a very  pestilent  fellow,  from  some  discourse  the  other  day  that  I had  with 


I IO 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


him  in  this  town;  for  then,  talking  with  him,  I heard  him  say  that  our 
religion  was  naught,  and  such  by  which  a man  could  by  no  means  please 
God.  Which  saying  of  his,  my  lord,  your  lordship  very  well  knows  what 
necessarily  thence  will  follow;  to  wit,  that  we  still  do  worship  in  vain,  are 
yet  in  our  sins,  and  finally  shall  be  damned:  and  this  is  that  which  I have 
to  say. 

Then  was  Pickthank  sworn,  and  bid  say  what  he  knew,  in  behalf  of  their 
lord  the  king,  against  the  prisoner  at  the  bar. 

Pick.  My  lord,  and  you  gentlemen  all,  this  fellow  I have  known  a long 
time,  and  have  heard  him  speak  things  that  ought  not  to  be  spoken,  for  he 
hath  railed  on  our  noble  Prince  Beelzebub,  and  hath  spoken  con- 
temptuously of  his  honourable  friends,  whose  names  are,  the 
Sins  are  all  Lord  Old-man,  the  Lord  Carnal-Delight,  the  Lord  Luxurious, 
great  ones.  the  Lord  Desire-of-Vain-Glory,  my  old  Lord  Lechery,  Sir 
Having  Greedy,  with  all  the  rest  of  our  nobility;  and  he  hath 
said,  moreover,  that,  if  all  men  were  of  his  mind,  if  possible,  there  is  not 
one  of  these  noblemen  should  have  any  longer  a being  in  this  town. 
Besides,  he  has  not  been  afraid  to  rail  on  you,  my  lord,  who  are  now 
appointed  to  be  his  judge,  calling  you  an  ungodly  villain,  with  many  other 
such-like  vilifying  terms,  with  which  he  hath  bespattered  most  of  the 
gentry  of  our  town. 

Judge.  When  this  Pickthank  had  told  his  tale,  the  judge  directed  his 
speech  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  saying,  “Thou  runagate,  heretic,  and 
traitor!  hast  thou  heard  what  these  honest  gentlemen  have  witnessed 
against  thee?" 

Faith.  May  I speak  a few  words  in  my  own  defence? 

Judge.  Sirrah,  sirrah,  thou  deservest  to  live  no  longer,  but  to  be  slain 
immediately  upon  the  place;  yet,  that  all  men  may  see  our  gentleness 
towards  thee,  let  us  hear  what  thou,  vile  runagate,  hast  to  say. 

Faith,  i.  I say,  then,  in  answer  to  what  Mr.  Envy  hath  spoken,  I have 
never  said  aught  but  this,  that  what  rule,  or  laws,  or  custom,  or  people  were 
flat  against  the  Word  of  God,  are  diametrically  opposite  to  Christianity.  It 
I have  said  amiss  in  this,  convince  me  of  my  error,  and  I am  ready  here 
before  you  to  make  my  recantation. 

2.  As  to  the  second,  to  wit,  Mr.  Superstition  and  his  charge  against  me, 
I said  only  this,  that  in  the  worship  of  God  there  is  required  a divine  faith. 
But  there  can  be  no  divine  faith  without  a divine  revelation  of  the  will  of 


Mr.  Crueltv,  Mr.  Hate-light,  and  Mr.  Implacable. 


THE  JUDGE'S  CHARGE. 


God.  Therefore,  whatever  is  thrust  into  the  worship  of  God  that  is  not 
agreeable  to  divine  revelation,  cannot  be  done  but  by  a human  faith,  which 
faith  will  not  profit  to  eternal  life. 

3.  As  to  what  Mr.  Pickthank  hath  said,  I say  (avoiding  terms,  as  that  I 
am  said  to  rail,  and  the  like),  that  the  prince  of  this  town,  with  all  the 
rabblement  his  attendants,  by  this  gentleman  named,  are  more  fit  for  a 
being  in  hell  than  in  this  town  and  country.  And  so  the  Lord  have  mercy 
upon  me! 

Then  the  judge  called  to  the  jury  (who  all  this  while  stood  by  to 
hear  and  observe),  “Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  see  this  man  about 
whom  so  great  an  uproar  hath  been  made  in  this  town;  you  have  also 
heard  what  these  worthy  gentlemen  have  witnessed  against  him;  also 
you  have  heard  his  reply  and  confession.  It  lieth  now  in  your  breast 
to  hang  him  or  to  save  his  life;  but  yet  I think  meet  to  instruct  you  into 
our  law. 

“There  was  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Pharaoh,  the  great  servant  to  our 
prince,  that,  lest  those  of  a contrary  religion  should  multiply  and  grow  too 
strong  for  him,  their  males  should  be  thrown  into  the  river.  (Exod.  i.  22.) 
There  was  also  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Nebuchadnezzar  the  Great, 
another  of  his  servants,  that  whoever  would  not  fall  down  and  worship  his 
golden  image  should  be  thrown  into  a fiery  furnace.  (Dan.  iii.  6.)  There 
was  also  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Darius,  that  whoso  for  some  time 
called  upon  any  god  but  him  should  be  cast  into  the  lions’  den.  (Dan. 
vi.  7.)  Now,  the  substance  of  these  laws  this  rebel  has  broken,  not  only  in 
thought  (which  is  not  to  be  borne),  but  also  in  word  and  deed,  which  must, 
therefore,  needs  be  intolerable. 

“For  that  of  Pharaoh,  his  law  was  made  upon  a supposition,  to  prevent 
mischief,  no  crime  being  yet  apparent;  but  here  is  a crime  apparent.  For 
the  second  and  third,  you  see  he  disputeth  against  our  religion;  and  for  the 
treason  that  he  hath  confessed  he  deserveth  to  die  the  death." 

Then  went  the  jury  out,  whose  names  were  Mr.  Blindman,  Mr.  No-good, 
Mr.  Malice,  Mr.  Love-lust,  Mr.  Live-loose,  Mr.  Heady,  Mr.  High-mind,  Mr. 
Enmity,  Mr.  Liar,  Mr.  Cruelty,  Mr.  Hate-light,  and  Mr.  Implacable,  who 
every  one  gave  in  his  private  verdict  against  him  among  themselves,  and 
afterwards  unanimously  concluded  to  bring  him  in  guilty  before  the  Judge. 
And  first  among  themselves,  Mr.  Blind-man,  the  foreman,  said,  “I  see 
clearly  that  this  man  is  a heretic.”  Then  said  Mr.  No-good,  “Away  with 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


114 


such  a fellow  from  the  earth!”  “Ay,”  said  Mr.  Malice,  “for  I hate  the  very 
look  of  him.”  Then  said  Mr.  Love-lust,  “I  could  never  endure  him.” 
“Nor  I,”  said  Mr.  Live-loose;  “for  he  would  always  be  condemning  my 
way.”  “Hang  him,  hang  him!”  said  Mr.  Heady.  “A  sorry  scrub,”  said 
Mr.  High-mind.  “My  heart  riseth  against  him,”  said  Mr.  Enmity.  “He  is 
a rogue,”  said  Mr.  Liar.  “ Hanging  is  too  good  for  him,”  said  Mr.  Cruelty. 
“Let  us  dispatch  him  out  of  the  way,”  said  Mr.  Hate-light.  Then  said 
Mr.  Implacable,  “Might  I have  all  the  world  given  to  me,  I could 
not  be  reconciled  to  him;  therefore  let  us  forthwith  bring  him  in  guilty 
of  death.” 

And  so  they  did:  therefore  he  was 
presently  condemned  to  be  had  from  the 
place  where  he  was,  to  the  place  from 
whence  he  came,  and  there  to  be  put  to 
the  most  cruel  death  that  could  be  in- 
vented. 

They  therefore  brought  him  out,  to  do 
with  him  according  to  their  law;  and  first 
they  scourged  him,  then  they  buffeted 
him,  then  they  lanced  his  flesh  with 
knives;  after  that  they  stoned  him  with 
stones,  then  pricked  him  with  their 
swords,  and,  last  of  all,  they  burned  him 
to  ashes  at  the  stake.  Thus  came  Faith- 
ful to  his  end. 

Now,  I saw  that  there  stood  behind  the 
multitude  a chariot  and  a couple  of 
horses  waiting  for  Faithful,  who  (so  soon 
as  his  adversaries  had  dispatched  him) 
was  taken  up  into  it,  and  straightway 
was  carried  up  through  the  clouds  with 
sound  of  trumpet  the  nearest  way  to  the  Celestial  Gate.  But  as  for 
Christian,  he  had  some  respite,  and  was  remanded  back  to  prison;  so  he 
there  remained  for  a space.  But  He  who  overrules  all  things,  having  the 
power  of  their  rage  in  His  own  hand,  so  wrought  it  about  that  Christian  for 
that  time  escaped  them,  and  went  his  way.  And  as  he  went,  he  sang, 
saying, 


There  was  one  whose  name  was  Hopeful,  whojoined  himself  unto  him.’1 


THE  TOWN  OF  FAIR-SPEECH. 


ii  7 


“Well,  Faithful,  thou  hast  faithfully  professed 
Unto  thy  Lord,  with  whom  thou  shalt  be  blest. 
When  faithless  ones,  with  all  their  vain  delights, 
Are  crying  out  under  their  hellish  plights. 

Sing,  Faithful,  sing,  and  let  thy  name  survive; 
For,  though  they  killed  thee,  thou  art  yet  alive.’’ 


Now,  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  went  forth  not  alone;  for  there 
was  one  whose  name  was  Hopeful  (being  so  made  by  the  beholding  of 
Christian  and  Faithful  in  their  words  and  behaviour  in  their  sufferings  at 
the  fair),  who  joined  himself  unto  him,  and,  entering  into  a brotherly 
covenant,  told  him  that  he  would  be  his  companion.  Thus  one  died  to 
bear  testimony  to  the  truth,  and  another  rises  out  of  his  ashes  to  be  a com- 
panion with  Christian  in  his  pilgrimage.  This  Hopeful  also  told  Christian 
that  there  were  many  more  of  the  men  in  the  fair  that  would  take  their 
time  and  follow  after. 

So  I saw  that,  quickly  after  they  were  got  out  of  the  fair,  they  overtook 
one  that  was  going  before  them,  whose  name  was  By-ends ; so  they  said  to 
him,  “ What  countryman,  sir?  and  how  far  go  you  this  way?”  He  told 
them  that  he  came  from  the  town  of  Fair-speech,  and  he  was  going  to  the 
Celestial  City;  but  told  them  not  his  name. 

Chris.  “From  Fair-speech!”  said  Christian:  “are  there  any  that  be  good 
live  there?”  (Prov.  xxvi.  25.) 

By.  “Yes,”  said  By-ends,  “I  hope.” 

Chris.  Pray,  sir,  what  may  I call  you? 

By.  I am  a stranger  to  you,  and  you  to  me:  if  you  be  going  this  way,  I 
shall  be  glad  of  your  company;  if  not,  I must  be  content. 

Chris.  This  town  of  Fair-speech,  I have  heard  of  it;  and,  as  I remem- 
ber, they  say  it ’s  a wealthy  place. 

By.  Yes,  I will  assure  you  that  it  is;  and  I have  very  many  rich  kindred 
there. 

Chris.  Pray,  who  are  your  kindred  there?  if  a man  may  be  so  bold. 

By.  Almost  the  whole  town;  but  in  particular  my  Lord  Turnabout,  my 
Lord  Time-server,  my  Lord  Fair-speech,  from  whose  ancestors  that  town 
first  took  its  name;  also  Mr.  Smooth-man,  Mr.  Facing-both-ways,  Mr. 
Anything;  and  the  parson  of  our  parish,  Mr.  Two-Tongues,  was  my 
mother’s  own  brother  by  father’s  side;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I am 
become  a gentleman  of  good  quality;  yet  my  great-grandfather  was  but  a 


1 18 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


waterman,  looking  one  way  and  rowing  another,  and  I got  most  of  my 
estate  by  the  same  occupation. 

Chris.  Are  you  a married  man? 

By.  Yes,  and  my  wife  is  a very  virtuous  woman,  the  daughter  of  a 
virtuous  woman;  she  was  my  Lady  Feigning’s  daughter;  therefore  she 
came  of  a very  honourable  family,  and  is  arrived  to  such  a pitch  of  breed- 
ing, that  she  knows  how  to  carry  it  to  all,  even  to  prince  and  peasant.  ’Tis 
true  we  somewhat  differ  in  religion  from  those  of  the  stricter  sort,  yet  but 
in  two  small  points:  First,  we  never  strive  against  wind  and  tide;  secondly, 
we  are  always  most  zealous  when  Religion  goes  in  his  silver  slippers : we 
love  much  to  walk  with  him  in  the  street  if  the  sun  shines  and  the  people 
applaud  him. 

Then  Christian  stepped  a little  aside  to  his  fellow  Hopeful,  saying,  “It 
runs  in  my  mind  that  this  is  one  By-ends,  of  Fair-speech ; and  if  it  be  he, 
we  have  as  very  a knave  in  our  company  as  dwelleth  in  all  these  parts.” 
Then  said  Hopeful,  “Ask  him;  methinks  he  should  not  be  ashamed  of  his 
name.”  So  Christian  came  up  with  him  again,  and  said,  “Sir,  you  talk  as 
if  you  knew  something  more  than  all  the  world  doth;  and  if  I take  not  my 
mark  amiss,  I deem  I have  half  a guess  of  you.  Is  not  your  name  Mr. 
By-ends,  of  Fair-speech?” 

By.  This  is  not  my  name;  but,  indeed,  it  is  a nickname  that  is  given  me 
by  some  that  cannot  abide  me,  and  I must  be  content  to  bear  it  as  a 
reproach,  as  other  good  men  have  borne  theirs  before  me. 

Chris.  But  did  you  never  give  an  occasion  to  men  to  call  you  by  this 
name  ? 

By.  Never,  never!  The  worst  that  ever  I did  to  give  them  an  occasion 
to  give  me  this  name  was,  that  I had  always  the  luck  to  jump  in  my  judg- 
ment with  the  present  way  of  the  times,  whatever  it  was,  and  my  chance 
was  to  get  thereby.  But  if  things  are  thus  cast  upon  me,  let  me  count 
them  a blessing;  but  let  not  the  malicious  load  me  therefore  with  reproach. 

Chris.  I thought,  indeed,  that  you  were  the  man  that  I heard  of;  and,  to 
tell  you  what  I think,  I fear  this  name  belongs  to  you  more  properly  than 
you  are  willing  we  should  think  it  doth. 

By.  Well,  if  you  will  thus  imagine,  I cannot  help  it:  you  shall  find  me  a 
fair  company-keeper  if  you  still  admit  me  your  associate. 

Chris.  If  you  will  go  with  us,  you  must  go  against  wind  and  tide;  the 
which,  I perceive,  is  against  your  opinion:  you  must  also  own  Religion  in 


‘And,  behold,  as  they  came  up  with  him,  he  made  them  a very  low  conge.’ 


CHRISTIAN  AND  HOPEFUL  FORSAKE  BY-ENDS. 


1 2 I 


his  rags,  as  well  as  when  in  his  silver  slippers ; and  stand  by  him,  too,  when 
bound  in  irons,  as  well  as  when  he  walketh  the  streets  with  applause. 

By.  You  must  not  impose  or  lord  it  over  my  faith;  leave  it  to  my 
liberty,  and  let  me  go  with  you. 

Chris.  Not  a step  farther,  unless  you  will  do  in  what  I propound 
as  we. 

By.  Then  said  By-ends,  “I  will  never  desert  my  old  principles,  since 
they  are  harmless  and  profitable.  If  I may  not  go  with  you,  I must  do  as 
I did  before  you  overtook  me,  even  go  by  myself,  until  some  overtake  me 
that  will  be  glad  of  my  company.” 

Now,  I saw  in  my  dream  that  Christian  and  Hopeful  forsook  him,  and 
kept  their  distance  before  him ; but  one  of  them,  looking  back,  saw  three 
men  following  Mr.  By-ends;  and,  behold,  as  they  came  up  with  him,  he 
made  them  a very  low  conge , and  they  also  gave  him  a compliment.  The 
men’s  names  were  Mr.  Hold-the-world,  Mr.  Money-love,  and  Mr.  Save-all; 
men  that  Mr.  By-ends  had  been  formerly  acquainted  with ; for  in  their 
minority  they  were  schoolfellows,  and  taught  by  one  Mr.  Gripe-man,  a 
schoolmaster  in  Love-gain,  which  is  a market  town  in  the  county  of 
Coveting,  in  the  North.  This  schoolmaster  taught  them  the  art  of  getting, 
either  by  violence,  cozenage,  flattery,  lying,  or  by  putting  on  a guise  of 
religion ; and  these  four  gentlemen  had  attained  much  of  the  art  of  their 
master,  so  that  they  could  each  of  them  have  kept  such  a school  them- 
selves. 

Well,  when  they  had,  as  I said,  thus  saluted  each  other,  Mr.  Money-love 
said  to  Mr.  By-ends,  “Who  are  they  upon  the  road  before  us?”  for 
Christian  and  Hopeful  were  yet  within  view. 

By.  They  are  a couple  of  far  countrymen,  that,  after  their  mode,  are 
going  on  pilgrimage. 

Money.  Alas,!  why  did  they  not  stay,  that  we  might  have  had  their  good 
company;  for  they,  and  we,  and  you,  sir,  I hope,  are  all  going  on 
pilgrimage. 

By.  We  are  so,  indeed;  but  the  men  before  us  are  so  rigid,  and  love  so 
much  their  own  notions,  and  do  also  so  lightly  esteem  the  opinions  of 
others,  that,  let  a man  be  ever  so  godly,  yet,  if  he  jumps  not  with  them  in 
all  things,  they  thrust  him  quite  out  of  their  company. 

Save.  That  is  bad ; but  we  read  of  some  that  are  righteous  overmuch, 
and  such  men’s  rigidness  prevails  with  them  to  judge  and  condemn  all  but 


122 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


themselves.  But,  I pray,  what  and  how  many  were  the  things  wherein  you 
differed  ? 

By.  Why,  they,  after  their  headstrong  manner,  conclude  that  it  is  their 
duty  to  rush  on  their  journey  all  weathers;  and  I am  for  waiting  for  wind 
and  tide.  They  are  for  hazarding  all  for  God  at  a clap;  and  I am  for  taking 
all  advantages  to  secure  my  life  and  estate.  They  are  for  holding  their 
notions,  though  all  other  men  be  against  them;  but  I am  for  religion  in 
what,  and  so  far  as,  the  times  and  my  safety  will  bear  it.  They  are  for 
Religion  when  in  rags  and  contempt;  but  I am  for  him  when  he  walks  in 
his  golden  slippers,  in  the  sunshine,  and  with  applause. 

Hold.  Ay,  and  hold  you  there  still,  good  Mr.  By-ends;  for,  for  my  part, 
I can  count  him  but  a fool,  that,  having  the  liberty  to  keep  what  he  has, 
shall  be  so  unwise  as  to  lose  it.  Let  us  be  wise  as  serpents.  It  is  best  to 
make  hay  while  the  sun  shines.  You  see  how  the  bee  lieth  still  all  winter, 
and  bestirs  her  only  when  she  can  have  profit  and  pleasure.  God  sends 
sometimes  rain  and  sometimes  sunshine;  if  they  be  such  fools  to  go 
through  the  first,  yet  let  us  be  content  to  take  fair  weather  along  with  us. 
For  my  part,  I like  that  religion  best  that  will  stand  with  the  security  of 
God’s  good  blessings  unto  us;  for  who  can  imagine,  that  is  ruled  by  his 

reason,  since  God  has  bestowed  upon  us  the  good  things  of  this  life,  but 

that  He  would  have  us  keep  them  for  His  sake?  Abraham  and  Solomon 
grew  rich  in  religion;  and  Job  says  that  “a  good  man  should  lay  up  gold 
as  dust;”  but  he  must  not  be  such  as  the  men  before  us,  if  they  be  as  you 
have  described  them. 

Save.  I think  that  we  are  all  agreed  in  this  matter,  and  therefore  there 
needs  no  more  words  about  it. 

Money.  No,  there  needs  no  more  words  about  this  matter,  indeed; 

for  he  that  believes  neither  Scripture  nor  reason  (and  you  see  we 

have  both  on  our  side),  neither  knows  his  own  liberty  nor  seeks  his 
own  safety. 

By.  My  brethren,  we  are,  as  you  see,  going  all  on  pilgrimage ; and  for 
our  better  diversion  from  things  that  are  bad,  give  me  leave  to  propound 
unto  you  this  question : 

Suppose  a man,  a minister,  or  a tradesman,  etc.,  should  have  an  advan- 
tage lie  before  him  to  get  the  good  blessings  of  this  life,  yet  so  as  that  he 
can  by  no  means  come  by  them  except,  in  appearance  at  least,  he  becomes 
extraordinarily  zealous  in  some  points  of  religion  that  he  meddled  not 


MONE Y- LOVE'S  PRINCIPLES. 


123 


with  before;  may  he  not  use  this  means  to  attain  his  end,  and  yet  be  a right 
honest  man? 

Money.  I see  the  bottom  of  your  question,  and,  with  these  gentlemen’s 
good  leave,  I will  endeavour  to  shape  you  an  answer.  And  first,  to  speak 
to  your  question  as  it  concerns  a minister  himself:  suppose  a minister,  a 
worthy  man,  possessed  of  but  a very  small  benefice,  and  has  in  his  eye  a 
greater,  more  fat  and  plump  by  far,  he  has  also  now  an  opportunity  of 
getting  it,  yet  so  as  by  being  more  studious,  by  preaching  more  frequently 
and  zealously,  and,  because  the  temper  of  the  people  requires  it,  by  altering 
of  some  of  his  principles;  for  my  part,  I see  no  reason  why  a man  may  not 
do  this,  provided  he  has  a call,  ay,  and  more  a great  deal  besides,  and  yet 
be  an  honest  man.  For  why? 

1.  His  desire  of  a greater  benefice  is  lawful:  this  cannot  be  contradicted, 
since  it  is  set  before  him  by  Providence;  so  then  he  may  get  it  if  he  can, 
making  no  question  for  conscience  sake. 

2.  Besides,  his  desire  after  that  benefice  makes  him  more  studious,  a 
more  zealous  preacher,  etc.,  and  so  makes  him  a better  man;  yea,  makes 
him  better  improve  his  parts,  which  is  according  to  the  mind  of  God. 

3.  Now,  as  for  his  complying  with  the  temper  of  his  people,  by  deserting, 
to  serve  them,  some  of  his  principles,  this  argueth,  first,  that  he  is  of  a self- 
denying  temper;  secondly,  of  a sweet  and  winning  deportment;  and, 
thirdly,  so  more  fit  for  the  ministerial  function. 

4.  I conclude,  then,  that  a minister  that  changes  a small  for  a great, 
should  not,  for  so  doing,  be  judged  as  covetous;  but  rather,  since  he  has 
improved  in  his  parts  and  industry  thereby,  be  counted  as  one  that  pursues 
his  call,  and  the  opportunity  put  into  his  hands  to  do  good. 

And  now  to  the  second  part  of  the  question,  which  concerns  the  trades- 
man you  mentioned.  Suppose  such  a one  to  have  but  a poor  employ  in 
the  world,  but  by  becoming  religious  he  may  mend  his  market,  perhaps  get 
a rich  wife,  or  more  and  far  better  customers  to  his  shop;  for  my  part,  I see 
no  reason  but  this  may  be  lawfully  done.  For  why? 

1.  To  become  religious  is  a virtue,  by  what  means  soever  a man 
becomes  so. 

2.  Nor  is  it  unlawful  to  get  a rich  wife,  or  more  custom  to  my  shop. 

3.  Besides,  the  man  that  gets  these  by  becoming  religious,  gets  that 
which  is  good  of  them  that  are  good,  by  becoming  good  himself:  so,  then, 
here  is  a good  wife,  and  good  customers,  and  good  gain,  and  all  these  by 


124 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


becoming  religious,  which  is  good:  therefore,  to  become  religious  to  get  all 
these  is  a good  and  profitable  design. 

This  answer  thus  made  by  Mr.  Money-love  to  Mr.  By-ends’  question  was 
highly  applauded  by  them  all;  wherefore  they  concluded  upon  the  whole 
that  it  was  most  wholesome  and  advantageous.  And  because,  as  they 
thought,  no  man  was  able  to  contradict  it,  and  because  Christian  and 
Hopeful  were  yet  within  call,  they  jointly  agreed  to  assault  them  with  this 
question  as  soon  as  they  overtook  them;  and  the  rather  because  they  had 
opposed  Mr.  By-ends  before.  So  they  called  after  them,  and  they  stopped 
and  stood  still  till  they  came  up  to  them;  but  they  concluded  as  they  went 
that  not  Mr.  By-ends,  but  old  Mr.  ITold-the-world,  should  propound  the 
question  to  them,  because,  as  they  supposed,  their  answer  to  him  would  be 
without  the  remainder  of  that  heat  that  was  kindled  betwixt  Mr.  By-ends 
and  them  at  their  parting  a little  before. 

So  they  came  up  to  each  other;  and  after  a short  salutation,  Mr.  Hold- 
the-world  propounded  the  question  to  Christian  and  his  fellow,  and  bid 
them  to  answer  it  if  they  could. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian,  “Even  a babe  in  religion  may  answer  ten 
thousand  such  questions.  For  if  it  be  unlawful  to  follow  Christ  for 
loaves,  as  it  is  (John  vi.  26),  how  much  more  abominable  is  it  to  make 
of  Him  and  religion  a stalking-horse  to  get  and  enjoy  the  world!  Nor 
do  we  find  any  other  than  heathens,  hypocrites,  devils,  and  witches  are  of 
this  opinion. 

“1.  Heathens:  for  when  Hamor  and  Shechem  had  a mind  to  the 
daughter  and  cattle  of  Jacob,  and  saw  that  there  was  no  way  for  them  to 
come  at  them  but  by  becoming  circumcised,  they  said  to  their  companions, 
‘If  every  male  of  us  be  circumcised,  as  they  are  circumcised,  shall  not 
their  cattle,  and  their  substance,  and  every  beast  of  theirs  be  ours?’  Their 
daughter  and  their  cattle  were  that  which  they  sought  to  obtain,  and  their 
religion  the  stalking-horse  they  made  use  of  to  come  at  them.  Read  the 
whole  story.  (Gen.  xxxiv.  20 — 24.) 

“ 2.  The  hypocritical  Pharisees  were  also  of  this  religion : long  prayers 
were  their  pretence;  but  to  get  widows’  houses  was  their  intent,  and 
greater  damnation  was  from  God  their  judgment.  (Luke  xx.  46,  47.) 

“3.  Judas  the  devil  was  also  of  this  religion:  he  was  religious  for  the 
bag,  that  he  might  be  possessed  of  what  was  therein ; but  he  was  lost,  cast 
away,  and  the  very  son  of  perdition. 


CHRISTIAN'S  ANSWER  TO  MONEY- LOVE. 


125 


“4.  Simon  the  witch  was  of  this  religion  too;  for  he  would  have  the 
Holy  Ghost,  that  he  might  have  got  money  therewith;  and  his  sentence 
from  Peter’s  mouth  was  according.  (Acts  viii.  18 — 23.) 

“5-  Neither  will  it  out  of  my  mind,  but  that  that  man  who  takes  up 
religion  for  the  world,  will  throw  away  religion  for  the  world;  for  so  surely 
as  Judas  resigned  the  world  in  becoming  religious,  so  surely  did  he  also 
sell  religion  and  his  Master  for  the  same.  To  answer  the  question,  there- 
fore, affirmatively,  as  I perceive  you  have  done,  and  to  accept  of,  as 
authentic,  such  answer,  is  heathenish,  hypocritical,  and  devilish;  and  your 
reward  will  be  according  to  your  works.” 

Then  they  stood  staring  one  upon  the  other,  but  had  not  wherewith  to 
answer  Christian.  Hopeful  also  approved  of  the  soundness  of  Christian’s 
answer;  so  there  was  a great  silence  among  them.  Mr.  By-ends  and  his 
company  also  staggered  and  kept  behind,  that  Christian  and  Hopeful  might 
outgo  them.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  “If  these  men  cannot  stand 
before  the  sentence  of  men,  what  will  they  do  with  the  sentence  of  God? 
And  if  they  are  mute  when  dealt  with  by  vessels  of  clay,  what  will  they  do 
when  they  shall  be  rebuked  by  the  flames  of  devouring  fire?” 

Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  outwent  them  again,  and  went  till  they 
came  to  a delicate  plain,  called  Ease,  where  they  went  with  much  content; 
but  that  plain  was  but  narrow,  so  they  were  quickly  got  over  it. 

Now  at  the  farther  side  of  that  plain  was  a little  hill,  called  The  ease  that 
Lucre,  and  in  that  hill  a silver  mine,  which  some  of  them  that  PllSrJT\s  liavc 
had  formerly  gone  that  way,  because  of  the  rarity  of  it,  had  this  life, 
turned  aside  to  see;  but  going  too  near  the  brink  of  the  pit, 
the  ground,  being  deceitful  under  them,  broke,  and  they  were  slain;  some 
also  had  been  maimed  there,  and  could  not  to  their  dying  day  be  their  own 
men  again. 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream  that  a little  off  the  road,  over  against  the  silver 
mine,  stood  Demas  (gentleman-like)  to  call  to  passengers  to  come  and  see; 
who  said  to  Christian  and  his  fellow,  “Ho!  turn  aside  hither,  and  I will 
show  you  a thing.” 

Chris.  What  thing  so  deserving  as  to  turn  us  out  of  the  way? 

Demas.  Here  is  a silver  mine,  and  some  digging  in  it  for  treasure;  if 
you  will  come,  with  a little  pains  you  may  richly  provide  for  yourselves. 

Hope.  Then  said  Hopeful,  “Let  us  go  see.” 

Chris.  “Not  I,”  said  Christian.  “I  have  heard  of  this  place  before  now, 


126 


THE  PILGRIM’S  PROGRESS. 


and  how  many  have  there  been  slain ; and  besides,  that  treasure  is  a snare 
to  those  that  seek  it,  for  it  hindereth  them  in  their  pilgrimage.” 

Chris.  Then  Christian  called  to  Demas,  saying,  “ Is  not  the  place  dan- 
gerous? Hath  it  not  hindered  many  in  their  pilgrimage?”  (Hosea  iv. 
16 — 19;  vii.  8.) 

Demas.  Not  very  dangerous,  except  to  those  that  are  careless.  But 
withal,  he  blushed  as  he  spake. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  “Let  us  not  stir  a step,  but  still 
keep  on  our  way.” 

Hope.  I will  warrant  you,  when  By-ends  comes  up,  if  he  hath  the  same 
invitation  as  we,  he  will  turn  in  thither  to  see. 

Chris.  No  doubt  thereof,  for  his  principles  lead  him  that  way;  and  a 
hundred  to  one  but  he  dies  there. 

Demas.  Then  Demas  called  out  again,  saying,  “But  will  you  not  come 
over  and  see?” 

Chris.  Then  Christian  roundly  answered,  saying,  “ Demas,  thou  art  an 
enemy  to  the  right  ways  of  the  Lord  of  this  way,  and  hast  been  already 
condemned  for  thine  own  turning  aside,  by  one  of  His  Majesty’s  judges 
(II.  Tim.  iv.  10);  and  why  seekest  thou  to  bring  us  into  the  like  condemna- 
tion ? Besides,  if  we  at  all  turn  aside,  our  Lord  the  King  will  certainly 
hear  thereof,  and  will  there  put  us  to  shame  where  we  should  stand  with 
boldness  before  Him.” 

Demas  cried  again  that  he  also  was  one  of  their  fraternity,  and  that,  if 
they  would  tarry  a little,  he  also  himself  would  walk  with  them. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian,  “What  is  thy  name?  Is  it  not  the  same  by 
the  which  I have  called  thee?” 

Demas.  Yes,  my  name  is  Demas;  I am  the  son  of  Abraham. 

Chris.  I know  you:  Gehazi  was  your  great-grandfather,  and  Judas  your 
father,  and  you  have  trod  in  their  steps.  It  is  but  a devilish  prank  that 
thou  usest:  thy  father  was  hanged  for  a traitor,  and  thou  deservest  no  better 
reward.  (II.  Kings  v.  20 — 27;  Matt.  xxvi.  14,  15;  xxvii.  1 — 5.)  Assure 
thyself  that  when  we  come  to  the  King,  we  will  tell  him  of  this  thy 
behaviour.  Thus  they  went  their  way. 

By  this  time  By-ends  and  his  companions  were  come  again  within  sight, 
and  they  at  the  first  beck  went  over  to  Demas.  Now,  whether  they  fell 
into  the  pit  by  looking  over  the  brink  thereof,  or  whether  they  went  down 
to  dig,  or  whether  they  were  smothered  in  the  bottom  by  the  damps  that 


“They  stood  looking*  and,  looking',  upon  it,  but  couldmot  tell  what  they  should  make  thereof.” 


THE  PILLAR  OF  SALT. 


129 


commonly  arise,  of  these  things  I am  not  certain;  but  this  I observed,  that 
they  never  were  seen  again  in  the  way.  Then  sang  Christian: 

“By-ends  and  silver  Demas  both  agree: 

One  calls ; the  other  runs,  that  he  may  be 
A sharer  in  his  lucre;  so  these  two 
Take  up  in  this  world,  and  no  farther  go.” 


Now,  I saw  that  just  on  the  other  side  of  the  plain  the  pilgrims  came  to 
a place  where  stood  an  old  monument  hard  by  the  highway-side;  at  the 
sight  of  which  they  were  both  concerned,  because  of  the  strangeness  of 
the  form  thereof;  for  it  seemed  to  them  as  if  it  had  been  a woman  trans- 
formed into  the  shape  of  a pillar.  Here,  therefore,  they  stood  looking  and 
looking  upon  it,  but  could  not  for  a time  tell  what  they  should  make 
thereof.  At  last  Hopeful  espied  written  above,  upon  the  head  thereof,  a 
writing  in  an  unusual  hand;  but  he,  being  no  scholar,  called  to  Christian 
(for  he  was  learned),  to  see  if  he  could  pick  out  the  meaning;  so  he  came, 
and  after  a little  laying  of  letters  together,  he  found  the  same  to  be  this, 
“Remember  Lot's  wife.”  So  he  read  it  to  his  fellow;  after  which,  they  both 
concluded  that  that  was  the  pillar  of  salt  into  which  Lot's  wife  was  turned, 
for  her  looking  back  with  a covetous  heart  when  she  was  going  from  Sodom. 
(Gen.  xix.  26.)  Which  sudden  and  amazing  sight  gave  them  occasion  for 
this  discourse: 

Chris.  Ah,  my  brother!  this  is  a seasonable  sight.  It  came  opportunely 
to  us  after  the  invitation  which  Demas  gave  us  to  come  over  to  view  the 
hill  Lucre;  and,  had  we  gone  over,  as  he  desired  us,  and  as  thou  wast 
inclining  to  do,  my  brother,  we  had,  for  aught  I know,  been  made  our- 
selves, like  this  woman,  a spectacle  for  those  that  shall  come  after  to 
behold. 

Hope.  I am  sorry  that  I was  so  foolish,  and  am  made  to  wonder  that  I 
am  not  now  as  Lot’s  wife;  for  wherein  was  the  difference  betwixt  her  sin 
and  mine?  She  only  looked  back,  and  I had  a desire  to  go  see.  Let 
grace  be  adored;  and  let  me  be  ashamed  that  ever  such  a thing  should  be 
in  mine  heart. 

Chris.  Let  us  take  notice  of  what  we  see  here,  for  our  help  for  time  to 
come.  This  woman  escaped  one  judgment,  for  she  fell  not  by  the  destruc- 
tion of  Sodom;  yet  she  was  destroyed  by  another,  as  we  see:  she  is  turned 
into  a pillar  of  salt. 


9 


130 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS . 


Hope.  True,  and  she  may  be  to  us  both  caution  and  example:  caution, 
that  we  should  shun  her  sin,  or  a sign  of  what  judgment  will  overtake  such 
as  shall  not  be  prevented  by  this  caution;  so  Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram, 
with  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  men  that  perished  in  their  sin,  did  also 
become  a sign  or  example  to  others  to  beware.  (Numb.  xvi.  31,  32;  xxvi. 
9,  10.)  But,  above  all,  I muse  at  one  thing:  to  wit,  how  Demas  and  his 
fellows  can  stand  so  confidently  yonder  to  look  for  that' treasure,  which  this 
woman,  but  for  looking  behind  her  after  (for  we  read  not  that  she  stepped 
one  foot  out  of  the  way),  was  turned  into  a pillar  of  salt;  especially  since 
the  judgment  which  overtook  her  did  make  her  an  example  within  sight  of 
where  they  are;  for  they  cannot  choose  but  see  her,  did  they  but  lift  up 
their  eyes. 

Chris.  It  is  a thing  to  be  wondered  at,  and  it  argueth  that  their  hearts 
are  grown  desperate  in  the  case;  and  I cannot  tell  who  to  compare  them  to 
so  fitly  as  to  them  that  pick  pockets  in  the  presence  of  the  judge,  or  that 
will  cut  purses  under  the  gallows.  It  is  said  of  the  men  of  Sodom,  that 
they  were  sinners  exceedingly,  because  they  were  sinners  “before  the 
Lord,”  that  is,  in  His  eyesight,  and  notwithstanding  the  kindnesses  that  He 
had  showed  them,  for  the  land  of  Sodom  was  now  like  the  garden  of  Eden 
heretofore.  (Gen.  xiii.  10 — 13.)  This,  therefore,  provoked  Him  the  more 
to  jealousy,  and  made  their  plague  as  hot  as  the  fire  of  the  Lord  out  of 
heaven  could  make  it.  And  it  is  most  rationally  to  be  concluded  that  such, 
even  such  as  these  are,  that  shall  sin  in  the  sight,  yea,  and  that  too  in 
despite,  of  such  examples  that  are  set  continually  before  them  to  caution 
them  to  the  contrary,  must  be  partakers  of  severest  judgments. 

Hope.  Doubtless  thou  hast  said  the  truth;  but  what  a mercy  is  it  that 
neither  thou,  but  especially  I,  am  not  made  myself  this  example!  This 
ministereth  occasion  to  us  to  thank  God,  to  fear  before  Him,  and  always  to 
remember  Lot’s  wife. 

I saw,  then,  that  they  went  on  their  way  to  a pleasant  river,  which  David 
the  King  called  “the  river  of  God,”  but  John,  “the  river  of  the  water  of 
life.”  (Psa.  lxv.  9;  Rev.  xxii.  1;  Ezek.  xlvii.  1 — 9).  Now  their  way  lay 
just  upon  the  bank  of  this  river;  here,  therefore,  Christian  and  his  com- 
panion walked  with  great  delight;  they  drank  also  of  the  water  of  the 
river,  which  was  pleasant  and  enlivening  to  their  weary  spirits.  Besides, 
on  the  banks  of  this  river  on  either  side  were  green  trees  that  bore  all 
manner  of  fruit;  and  the  leaves  of  the  trees  were  good  for  medicine;  with 


THE  RIVER  OF  THE  WATER  OF  LIFE. 


131 


the  fruit  of  these  trees  they  were  also  much  delighted ; and  the  leaves  they 
ate  to  prevent  surfeits,  and  other  diseases  that  are  incident  to  those  that 
heat  their  blood  by  travels.  On  either  side  of  the  river  was  also  a meadow, 
curiously  beautified  with  lilies,  and  it  was  green  all  the  year  long.  In  this 
meadow  they  lay  down  and  slept,  for  here  they  might  lie  down  safely. 
(Psa.  xxiii.  2;  Isa.  xiv.  30.)  When  they  awoke,  they  gathered  again  of  the 
fruit  of  the  trees  and  drank  again  of  the  water  of  the  river,  and  they  lay 
down  again  to  sleep.  This  they  did  several  days  and  nights.  Then  they 
sang: 

“ Behold  ye,  how  these  crystal  streams  do  glide, 

To  comfort  pilgrims  by  the  highway-side: 

The  meadows  green,  besides  their  fragrant  smell, 

Yield  dainties  for  them;  and  he  who  can  tell 
What  pleasant  fruit,  yea,  leaves,  these  trees  do  yield, 

Will  soon  sell  all,  that  he  may  buy  this  field." 


So,  when  they  were  disposed  to  go  on  (for  they  were  not  as  yet  at  their 
journey’s  end),  they  ate  and  drank,  and  departed. 

Now,  I beheld  in  my  dream  that  they  had  not  journeyed  far,  but  the 
river  and  the  way  for  a time  parted,  at  which  they  were  not  a little  sorry; 
yet  they  durst  not  go  out  of  the  way.  Now  the  way  from  the  river  was 
rough,  and  their  feet  tender  by  reason  of  their  travels;  so  the  souls  of  the 
pilgrims  were  much  discouraged  because  of  the  way.  (Numb.  xxi.  4.) 
Wherefore,  still  as  they  went  on  they  wished  for  a better  way.  Now,  a 
little  before  them  there  was,  on  the  left  hand  of  the  road,  a 
meadow,  and  a stile  to  go  over  into  it,  and  that  meadow  is  Onetempta- 
called  By-path  Meadow.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  ™kes 
“ If  this  meadow  lieth  along  by  our  wayside,  let ’s  go  over  it.”  another. 
Then  he  went  to  the  stile  to  see;  and  behold,  a path  lay  along 
by  the  way  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence.  “It  is  according  to  my  wish,” 
said  Christian;  “here  is  the  easiest  going.  Come,  good  Hopeful,  and  let 
us  go  over.” 

Hope.  But  how  if  this  path  should  lead  us  out  of  the  way? 

Chris.  “That  is  not  likely,”  said  the  other.  “Look,  doth  it  Q™stLns 
not  go  along  by  the  wayside?”  So  Hopeful,  being  persuaded  may  lead 
by  his  fellow,  went  after  him  over  the  stile.  When  they  were  weak  °»es 
gone  over,  and  were  got  into  the  path,  they  found  it  very  easy  way. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


1 \2 


See  what  it 
is  too  sud- 
denly to  fall 
in  with 
strangers. 


to  their  feet;  and  withal,  they,  looking  before  them,  espied  a man  walking 
as  they  did,  and  his  name  was  Vain-Confidence:  so  they  called 
after  him,  and  asked  him  whither  that  way  led.  He  said,  “To 
the  Celestial  Gate.”  “Look,”  said  Christian,  “did  not  I tell 
you  so?  By  this  you  may  see  we  are  right.”  So  they 
followed,  and  he  went  before  them.  But,  behold,  the  night 
came  on,  and  it  grew  very  dark;  so  that  they  that  were  behind 
lost  sight  of  him  that  went  before.  He,  therefore,  that  went  before  (Vain- 

Confidence  by  name),  not  seeing  the 
way  before  him,  fell  into  a deep  pit, 
which  was  on  purpose  there  made  by 
the  Prince  of  those  grounds  to  catch 

vain-glorious  fools  withal,  and  was 

dashed  in  pieces  with  his  fall.  (Isa. 
ix.  16.) 

Now  Christian  and  his  fellow  heard 
him  fall.  So  they  called  to  know  the 
matter;  but  there  was  none 
to  answer,  only  they  heard 

a groaning.  Then  said 

Hopeful,  “Where  are  we 

now?”  Then  was  his  fel- 
low silent,  as  mistrusting  that  he  had 

led  him  out  of  the  way;  and  now  it 

began  to  rain,  and  thunder,  and  lighten 
in  a most  dreadful  manner,  and  the 
water  rose  amain. 

Then  Hopeful  groaned  in  himself, 
saying,  “ Oh  that  I had  kept  on  my  way ! ” 
Chris.  Who  could  have  thought  that  this  path  should  have  led  us  out 
of  the  way? 

Hope.  I was  afraid  on  ’t  at  the  very  first,  and  therefore  gave  you  that 
gentle  caution.  I would  have  spoken  plainer,  but  that  you  are  older 
than  I. 

Chris.  Good  brother,  be  not  offended.  I am  sorry  I have  brought  thee 
out  of  the  way,  and  that  I have  put  thee  into  such  imminent  danger.  Pray, 
my  brother,  forgive  me:  I did  not  do  it  of  any  evil  intent. 


A pit  to 
catch  the 
vain-glorious 
in. 


VAIN-CONFIDENCE. 


GIANT  DESPAIR. 


THE  WAY  TO  DOUBTING  CASTLE. 


i35 


Hope.  Be  comforted,  my  brother,  for  I forgive  thee,  and  believe,  too, 
that  this  shall  be  for  our  good. 

Chris.-  I am  glad  I have  with  me  a merciful  brother;  but  we  must  not 
stand  still : let  us  try  to  go  back  again. 

Hope.  But,  good  brother,  let  me  go  before. 

Chris.  No,  if  you  please;  let  me  go  first,  that,  if  there  be  any  danger,  I 
may  be  first  therein,  because  by  my  means  we  are  both  gone  out  of  the 
way. 

Hope.  “No,”  said  Hopeful,  “you  shall  not  go  first;  for  your  mind  being 
troubled  may  lead  you  out  of  the  way  again.”  Then  for  their  encourage- 
ment they  heard  the  voice  of  one  saying,  “ Let  thine  heart  be  towards  the 
highway,  even  the  way  that  thou  wentest;  turn  again."  (Jer.  xxxi.  21.) 
But  by  this  time  the  waters  were  greatly  risen,  by  reason  of  which  the  way 
of  going  back  was  very  dangerous.  (Then  I thought  that  it  is  easier 
going  out  of  the  way  when  we  are  in,  than  going  in  when  we  are  out.) 
Yet  they  adventured  to  go  back;  but  it  was  so  dark,  and  the  flood  so 
high,  that,  in  their  going  back,  they  had  like  to  have  been  drowned  nine 
or  ten  times. 

Neither  could  they,  with  all  the  skill  they  had,  get  again  to  the  stile  that 
night.  Wherefore,  at  last  lighting  under  a little  shelter,  they  sat  down 
there  until  daybreak;  but,  being  weary,  they  fell  asleep.  Now,  there  was, 
not  far  from  the  place  where  they  lay,  a castle,  called  Doubting  Castle,  the 
owner  whereof  was  Giant  Despair,  and  it  was  in  his  grounds  they  now 
were  sleeping;  wherefore  he,  getting  up  in  the  morning  early,  and  walking 
up  and  down  in  his  fields,  caught  Christian  and  Hopeful  asleep  in  his 
grounds.  Then,  with  a grim  and  surly  voice,  he  bid  them  awake,  and 
asked  them  whence  they  were,  and  what  they  did  in  his  grounds.  They 
told  him  they  were  pilgrims,  and  that  they  had  lost  their  way.  Then  said 
the  giant,  “You  have  this  night  trespassed  on  me  by  trampling  in  and  lying 
on  my  grounds,  and  therefore  you  must  go  along  with  me.”  So  they  were 
forced  to  go,  because  he  was  stronger  than  they.  They  had  also  but  little 
to  say,  for  they  knew  themselves  in  fault.  The  giant,  therefore,  drove  them 
before  him,  and  put  them  into  his  castle,  into  a very  dark  dungeon,  nasty 
and  stinking  to  the  spirits  of  these  two  men.  Here,  then,  they  lay  from 
Wednesday  morning  till  Saturday  night,  without  one  bit  of  bread  or  drop 
of  drink,  or  light,  or  any  to  ask  how  they  did;  they  were,  therefore,  here  in 
evil  case,  and  were  far  from  friends  and  acquaintance.  (Psa.  lxxxviii.  18.) 


136 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Now,  in  this  place  Christian  had  double  sorrow,  because  it  was  through  his 
unadvised  haste  that  they  were  brought  into  this  distress. 

Now,  Giant  Despair  had  a wife,  and  her  name  was  Diffidence.  So,  when 
he  was  gone  to  bed,  he  told  his  wife  what  he  had  done;  to  wit,  that  he  had 
taken  a couple  of  prisoners  and  cast  them  into  his  dungeon  for  trespassing 
on  his  grounds.  Then  he  asked  her  also  what  he  had  best  to  do  further  to 
them.  So  she  asked  him  what  they  were,  whence  they  came,  and  whither 
they  were  bound ; and  he  told  her.  Then  she  counselled  him,  that  when 
he  arose  in  the  morning,  he  should  beat  them  without  any  mercy.  So, 
when  he  arose,  he  getteth  him  a grievous  crab-tree  cudgel,  and  goes  down 
into  the  dungeon  to  them,  and  there  first  fell  to  rating  of  them  as  if  they 
were  dogs,  although  they  never  gave  him  a word  of  distaste.  Then  he 
falls  upon  them,  and  beats  them  fearfully,  in  such  sort  that  they  were  not 
able  to  help  themselves,  or  to  turn  them  upon  the  floor.  This  done,  he 
withdraws  and  leaves  them  there  to  condole  their  misery  and  to  mourn 
under  their  distress.  So  all  that  day  they  spent  their  time  in  nothing  but 
sighs  and  bitter  lamentations.  The  next  night  she,  talking  with  her 
husband  about  them  further,  and  understanding  that  they  were  yet  alive, 
did  advise  him  to  counsel  them  to  make  away  with  themselves.  So,  when 
morning  was  come,  he  goes  to  them  in  a surly  manner,  as  before,  and,  per- 
ceiving them  to  be  very  sore  with  the  stripes  that  he  had  given  them  the 
day  before,  he  told  them  that,  since  they  were  never  like  to  come  out  of 
that  place,  their  only  way  would  be  forthwith  to  make  an  end  of  themselves, 
either  with  knife,  halter,  or  poison:  “For  why,”  said  he,  “should  you  choose 
life,  seeing  it  is  attended  with  so  much  bitterness?”  But  they  desired  him 
to  let  them  go.  With  that,  he  looked  ugly  upon  them,  and  rushing  to 
them,  had  doubtless  made  an  end  of  them  himself,  but  that  he  fell  into  one 
of  his  fits  (for  he  sometimes,  in  sunshiny  weather,  fell  into  fits),  and  lost  for 
a time  the  use  of  his  hand;  wherefore  he  withdrew,  and  left  them  as  before 
to  consider  what  to  do.  Then  did  the  prisoners  consult  between  them- 
selves, whether  it  was  best  to  take  his  counsel  or  no;  and  thus  they  began 
to  discourse: 

Chris.  “Brother,”  said  Christian,  “what  shall  we  do?  The  life  we  now 
live  is  miserable.  For  my  part,  I know  not  whether  is  best,  to  live  thus,  or 
to  die  out  of  hand.  My  soul  chooseth  strangling  rather  than  life,  and  the 
grave  is  more  easy  for  me  than  this  dungeon.  (Job  vii.  15.)  Shall  we  be 
ruled  by  the  giant?” 


“So  they  continued  together  in  the  dark  that  day,  in  their  sad  and  doleful  condition.” 


• 

. 


PRISONERS  IN  DOUBTING  CASTLE. 


139 


Hope.  Indeed,  our  present  condition  is  dreadful;  and  death  would  be 
far  more  welcome  to  me  than  thus  for  ever  to  abide.  But  yet,  let  us  con- 
sider: the  Lord  of  the  country  to  which  we  are  going  hath  said,  “Thou  shalt 
do  no  murder,”  no,  not  to  another  man’s  person;  much  more,  then,  are  we 
forbidden  to  take  his  counsel  to  kill  ourselves.  Besides,  he  that  kills 
another  can  but  commit  murder  upon  his  body;  but  for  one  to  kill  himself 
is  to  kill  body  and  soul  at  once.  And,  moreover,  my  brother,  thou  talkest 
of  ease  in  the  grave;  but  hast  thou  forgotten  the  hell,  whither,  for  certain, 
the  murderers  go?  for  “no  murderer  hath  eternal  life,”  etc.  And  let  us 
consider  again,  that  all  the  law  is  not  in  the  hand  of  Giant  Despair:  others, 
so  far  as  I can  understand,  have  been  taken  by  him  as  well  as  we,  and  yet 
have  escaped  out  of  his  hand.  Who  knows  but  that  God,  who  made  the 
world,  may  cause  that  Giant  Despair  may  die?  or  that,  at  some  time  or 
other,  he  may  forget  to  lock  us  in?  or  that  he  may,  in  a short  time,  have 
another  of  his  fits  before  us,  and  he  may  lose  the  use  of  his  limbs?  and  if 
ever  that  should  come  to  pass  again,  for  my  part,  I am  resolved  to  pluck  up 
the  heart  of  a man,  and  to  try  my  utmost  to  get  from  under  his  hand.  I 
was  a fool  that  I did  not  try  to  do  it  before.  But,  however,  my  brother,  let 
us  be  patient,  and  endure  awhile:  the  time  may  come  that  may  give  us  a 
happy  release;  but  let  us  not  be  our  own  murderers. 

With  these  words,  Hopeful  at  present  did  moderate  the  mind  of  his 
brother;  so  they  continued  together  in  the  dark  that  day,  in  their  sad  and 
doleful  condition. 

Well,  towards  evening,  the  giant  goes  down  into  the  dungeon  again,  to 
see  if  his  prisoners  had  taken  his  counsel.  But,  when  he  came  there,  he 
found  them  alive;  and  truly,  alive  was  all;  for  now,  what  for  want  of  bread 
and  water,  and  by  reason  of  the  wounds  they  received  when  he  beat  them, 
they  could  do  little  but  breathe.  But,  I say,  he  found  them  alive;  at  which 
he  fell  into  a grievous  rage,  and  told  them  that,  seeing  they  had  disobeyed 
his  counsel,  it  should  be  worse  with  them  than  if  they  had  never  been 
born. 

At  this  they  trembled  greatly,  and  I think  that  Christian  fell  into  a 
swoon;  but,  coming  a little  to  himself  again,  they  renewed  their  discourse 
about  the  giant’s  counsel,  and  whether  yet  they  had  best  to  take  it  or  no. 
Now,  Christian  again  seemed  for  doing  it;  but  Hopeful  made  his  second 
reply  as  followeth : 

Hope.  “My  brother,”  said  he,  “rememberest  thou  not  how  valiant  thou 


140 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


hast  been  heretofore?  Apollyon  could  not  crush  thee,  nor  could  all  that 
thou  didst  hear,  or  see,  or  feel  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 
What  hardship,  terror,  and  amazement  hast  thou  already  gone  through! 
and  art  thou  now  nothing  but  fear?  Thou  seest  that  I am  in  the  dungeon 
with  thee,  a far  weaker  man  by  nature  than  thou  art;  also  this  giant  has 
wounded  me  as  well  as  thee,  and  hath  also  cut  off  the  bread  and  water 
from  my  mouth;  and,  with  thee,  I mourn  without  the  light.  But  let  us 
exercise  a little  more  patience.  Remember  how  thou  playedst  the  man  at 
Vanity  Fair,  and  wast  neither  afraid  of  the  chain,  nor  cage,  nor  yet  of 
bloody  death.  Wherefore,  let  us  (at  least  to  avoid  the  shame  that  it 
becomes  not  a Christian  to  be  found  in)  bear  up  with  patience  as  well  as 
we  can." 

Now,  night  being  come  again,  and  the  giant  and  his  wife  being  in  bed, 
she  asked  him  concerning  the  prisoners,  and  if  they  had  taken  his  counsel: 
to  which  he  replied,  “They  are  sturdy  rogues;  they  choose  rather  to  bear  all 
hardship  than  to  make  away  with  themselves."  Then  said  she,  “Take 
them  into  the  castle-yard  to-morrow,  and  show  them  the  bones  and  skulls 
of  those  that  thou  hast  already  dispatched;  and  make  them  believe,  ere  a 
week  comes  to  an  end,  thou  wilt  tear  them  also  in  pieces,  as  thou  hast  done 
their  fellows  before  them." 

So  when  the  morning  was  come,  the  giant  goes  to  them  again,  and  takes 
them  into  the  castle-yard,  and  shows  them  as  his  wife  had  bidden  him. 
“These,"  said  he,  “were  pilgrims,  as  you  are,  once,  and  they  trespassed  in 
my  grounds  as  you  have  done;  and,  when  I thought  fit,  I tore  them  in 
pieces;  and  so  within  ten  days  I will  do  you.  Go,  get  you  down  to  your 
den  again.”  And,  with  that,  he  beat  them  all  the  way  thither.  They  lay, 
therefore,  all  day  on  Saturday  in  a lamentable  case,  as  before.  Now,  when 
night  was  come,  and  when  Mrs.  Diffidence  and  her  husband,  the  giant, 
were  got  to  bed,  they  began  to  renew  their  discourse  of  their  prisoners ; 
and  withal,  the  old  giant  wondered  that  he  could  neither  by  his  blows  nor 
counsel  bring  them  to  an  end.  And,  with  that,  his  wife  replied,  “I  fear," 
said  she,  “that  they  live  in  hope  that  some  will  come  to  relieve  them;  or 
that  they  have  picklocks  about  them,  by  the  means  of  which  they  hope  to 
escape."  “And  sayest  thou  so,  my  dear?"  said  the  giant:  “I  will  therefore 
search  them  in  the  morning." 

Well,  on  Saturday,  about  midnight,  they  began  to  pray,  and  continued  in 
prayer  till  almost  break  of  day. 


THEY  ESCAPE  FROM  DOUBTING  CASTLE. 


141 


Now,  a little  before  it  was  day,  good  Christian,  as  one  half  amazed,  brake 
out  into  this  passionate  speech:  “What  a fool,”  quoth  he,  “am  I to  lie  in  a 
stinking  dungeon,  when  I may  as  well  walk  at  liberty!  I have  a key  in  my 
bosom  called  Promise,  that  will,  I am  persuaded,  open  any  lock  in  Doubt- 
ing Castle.”  Then  said  Hopeful,  “That  is  good  news,  good  brother:  pluck 
it  out  of  thy  bosom,  and  try.” 

Then  Christian  pulled  it  out  of  his  bosom,  and  began  to  try  at  the 
dungeon  door,  whose  bolt,  as  he  turned  the  key,  gave  back,  and  the  door 
flew  open  with  ease,  and  Christian  and  Hopeful  both  came  out.  Then  he 
went  to  the  outward  door  that  leads  into  the  castle-yard,  and  with  his  key 
opened  that  door  also.  After,  he  went  to  the  iron  gate,  for  that  must  be 
opened  too;  but  that  lock  went  damnable  hard,  yet  the  key  did  open  it. 
Then  they  thrust  open  the  gate  to  make  their  escape  with  speed ; but  that 
gate,  as  it  opened,  made  such  a creaking,  that  it  waked  Giant  Despair,  who, 
hastily  rising  to  pursue  his  prisoners,  felt  his  limbs  to  fail;  for  his  fits  took 
him  again,  so  that  he  could  by  no  means  go  after  them.  Then  they  went 
on,  and  came  to  the  King’s  highway  again,  and  so  were  safe  because  they 
were  out  of  his  jurisdiction. 

Now,  when  they  were  gone  over  the  stile,  they  began  to  contrive  with 
themselves  what  they  should  do  at  that  stile  to  prevent  those  that  should 
come  after  from  falling  into  the  hands  of  Giant  Despair.  So  they  con- 
sented to  erect  there  a pillar,  and  to  engrave  upon  the  side  thereof  this 
sentence:  “Over  this  stile  is  the  way  to  Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept  by 
Giant  Despair,  who  despiseth  the  King  of  the  Celestial  Country,  and  seeks 
to  destroy  His  holy  pilgrims.”  Many,  therefore,  that  followed  after,  read 
what  was  written,  and  escaped  the  danger.  This  done,  they  sang  as 
follows: 


“Out  of  the  way  we  went,  and  then  we  found 
What ’t  was  to  tread  upon  forbidden  ground: 

And  let  them  that  come  after  have  a care, 

Lest  heedlessness  make  them  as  we  to  fare; 

Lest  they  for  trespassing  his  prisoners  are 

Whose  Castle  ‘s  Doubting,  and  whose  name ’s  Despair.” 


They  went  then  till  they  came  to  the  Delectable  Mountains,  which  moun- 
tains belong  to  the  Lord  of  that  hill  of  which  we  have  spoken  before.  So 
they  went  up  to  the  mountains  to  behold  the  gardens  and  orchards,  the 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


142 


vineyards  and  fountains  of  water,  where  also  they  drank  and  washed  them- 
selves, and  did  freely  eat  of  the  vineyards.  Now  there  were  on  the  tops  of 
these  mountains  shepherds  feeding  their  flocks,  and  they  stood  by  the  high- 
way-side. The  pilgrims,  therefore,  went  to  them,  and  leaning  upon  their 
staves  (as  is  common  with  weary  pilgrims  when  they  stand  to  talk  with  any 
by  the  way),  they  asked,  “Whose  delectable  mountains  are  these,  and 
whose  be  the  sheep  that  feed  upon  them?” 

Shep.  These  mountains  are  Immanuel’s  Land,  and  they  are  within  sight 
of  His  city;  and  the  sheep  also  are  His,  and  He  laid  down  His  life  for 
them.  (John  x.  1 1 — 15.) 

Chris.  Is  this  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City? 

Shep.  You  are  just  in  your  way. 

Chris.  How  far  is  it  thither? 

Shep.  Too  far  for  any  but  those  who  shall  get  thither  indeed. 

Chris.  Is  the  way  safe  or  dangerous? 

Shep.  Safe  for  those  for  whom  it  is  to  be  safe;  but  transgressors  shall 
fall  therein.  (Hos.  xiv.  9.) 

Chris.  Is  there  in  this  place  any  relief  for  pilgrims  that  are  weary  and 
faint  in  the  way  ? 

Shep.  The  Lord  of  these  mountains  hath  given  us  a charge  not  to  be 
forgetful  to  entertain  strangers  (Heb.  xiii.  2);  therefore  the  good  of  the 
place  is  before  you. 

I saw  also  in  my  dream  that  when  the  shepherds  perceived  that  they 
were  wayfaring  men,  they  also  put  questions  to  them  (to  which  they  made 
answer  as  in  other  places),  as,  “Whence  came  you?”  and,  “ How  got  you 
into  the  way?”  and,  “By  what  means  have  you  so  persevered  therein?  for 
but  few  of  them  that  begin  to  come  hither  do  show  their  faces  on  these 
mountains.”  But  when  the  shepherds  heard  their  answers,  being  pleased 
therewith,  they  looked  very  lovingly  upon  them,  and  said,  “Welcome  to 
the  Delectable  Mountains!” 

The  shepherds,  I say,  whose  names  were  Knowledge,  Experience, 
Watchful,  and  Sincere,  took  them  by  the  hand  and  had  them  to  their  tents, 
and  made  them  partake  of  what  was  ready  at  present.  They  said,  more- 
over, “We  would  that  you  should  stay  here  awhile,  to  be  acquainted  with 
us,  and  yet  more  to  solace  yourselves  with  the  good  of  these  Delectable 
Mountains.”  They  then  told  them  that  they  were  content  to  stay.  So 
they  went  to  rest  that  night,  because  it  was  very  late. 


THE  SHEPHERDS  ON  THE  DELECTABLE  MOUNTAINS. 


M3 


Then  I saw  in  my  dream  that  in  the  morning  the  shepherds  called  up 
Christian  and  Hopeful  to  walk  with  them  upon  the  mountains.  So  they 
went  forth  with  them,  and  walked  awhile,  having  a pleasant  prospect  on 
every  side.  Then  said  the  shepherds  one  to  another,  “Shall  we  show  these 
pilgrims  some  wonders?”  So,  when  they  had  concluded  to  do  it,  they  had 
them  first  to  the  top  of  the  hill  called  Error,  which  was  very  steep  on  the 
farthest  side,  and  bid  them  look  down  to  the  bottom.  So  Christian  and 
Hopeful  looked  down,  and  saw  at  the  bottom  several  men  dashed  all  to 
pieces  by  a fall  they  had  had  from  the  top.  Then  said  Christian,  “What 
ineaneth  this?”  Then  the  shepherds  answered,  “Have  you  not  heard  of 
them  that  were  made  to  err,  by  hearkening  to  Hymeneus  and  Philetus,  as 
concerning  the  faith  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body?”  (II.  Tim.  ii.  17,  18.) 
They  answered,  “Yes.”  Then  said  the  shepherds,  “Those  you  see  lie 
dashed  to  pieces  at  the  bottom  of  this  mountain  are  they;  and  they  have 
continued  to  this  day  unburied,  as  you  see,  for  an  example  to  others  to 
take  heed  how  they  clamber  too  high,  or  how  they  come  too  near  the  brink 
of  this  mountain.” 

Then  I saw  that  they  had  them  to  the  top  of  another  mountain,  and  the 
name  of  that  is  Caution,  and  bid  them  look  afar  off;  and  when  they  did, 
they  perceived,  as  they  thought,  several  men  walking  up  and  down  among 
the  tombs  that  were  there;  and  they  perceived  that  the  men  were  blind, 
because  they  stumbled  sometimes  upon  the  tombs,  and  because  they 
could  not  get  out  from  among  them.  Then  said  Christian,  “What  means 
this?” 

The  shepherds  then  answered,  “Did  you  not  see  a little  below  these 
mountains  a stile  that  led  into  a meadow  on  the  left  hand  side  of  this 
way?”  They  answered,  “Yes.”  Then  said  the  shepherds,  “From  that 
stile  there  goes  a path  that  leads  directly  to  Doubting  Castle,  which  is  kept 
by  Giant  Despair;  and  these  men”  (pointing  to  them  among  the  tombs) 
“came  once  on  pilgrimage,  as  you  do  now,  even  until  they  came  to  that 
same  stile.  And  because  the  right  way  was  rough  in  that  place,  they  chose 
to  go  out  of  it  into  that  meadow,  and  there  were  taken  by  Giant  Despair, 
and  cast  into  Doubting  Castle,  where,  after  they  had  been  kept  awhile  in 
the  dungeon,  he  at  last  did  put  out  their  eyes,  and  led  them  among  those 
tombs,  where  he  has  left  them  to  wander  to  this  very  day,  that  the  saying 
of  the  Wise  Man  might  be  fulfilled,  ‘ He  that  wandereth  out  of  the  way  of 
understanding,  shall  remain  in  the  congregation  of  the  dead.’”  (Prov. 


144 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


xxi.  1 6.)  Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  looked  upon  one  another  with  tears 
gushing  out,  but  yet  said  nothing  to  the  shepherds. 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  shepherds  had  them  to  another  place 
in  a bottom,  where  was  a door  on  the  side  of  a hill;  and  they  opened  the 
door,  and  bid  them  look  in.  They  looked  in,  therefore,  and  saw  that 
within  it  was  very  dark  and  smoky;  they  also  thought  that  they  heard 
there  a rumbling  noise,  as  of  fire,  and  a cry  of  some  tormented,  and 
that  they  smelt  the  scent  of  brimstone.  Then  said  Christian,  “What 
means  this?”  The  shepherds  told  them,  “This  is  a by-way  to  hell,  a 
way  that  hypocrites  go  in  at:  namely,  such  as  sell  their  birthright,  with 
Esau;  such  as  sell  their  master,  with  Judas;  such  as  blaspheme  the 
Gospel,  with  Alexander;  and  that  lie  and  dissemble,  with  Ananias  and 
Sapphira  his  wife.” 

Hope.  Then  said  Hopeful  to  the  shepherds,  “I  perceive  that  these  had 
on  them,  even  every  one,  a show  of  pilgrimage,  as  we  have  now;  had  they 
not? 

Shep.  Yes,  and  held  it  a long  time  too. 

Hope.  How  far  might  they  go  on  in  pilgrimage  in  their  day,  since  they 
notwithstanding  were  thus  miserably  cast  away? 

Shep.  Some  farther,  and  some  not  so  far  as  these  mountains. 

Then  said  the  pilgrims  one  to  another,  “We  have  need  to  cry  to  the 
Strong  for  strength.” 

Shep.  Ay,  and  you  will  have  need  to  use  it  when  you  have  it, 
too. 

By  this  time  the  pilgrims  had  a desire  to  go  forward,  and  the  shepherds  a 
desire  they  should;  so  they  walked  together  towards  the  end  of  the  mount- 
ains. Then  said  the  shepherds  one  to  another,  “ Let  us  here  show  to  the 
pilgrims  the  gate  of  the  Celestial  City,  if  they  have  skill  to  look  through 
our  perspective  glass.”  The  pilgrims  then  lovingly  accepted  the  motion; 
so  they  had  them  to  the  top  of  a high  hill  called  Clear,  and  gave  them  their 
glass  to  look. 

Then  they  essayed  to  look;  but  the  remembrance  of  that  last  thing  that 
the  shepherds  had  showed  them,  made  their  hands  shake,  by 
The  fruits  of  means  of  which  impediment  they  could  not  look  steadily 
servile  fear.  through  the  glass ; yet  they  thought  they  saw  something  like 
the  gate,  and  also  some  of  the  glory  of  the  place.  Thus  they 
went  away,  and  sang  this  song: 


THEY  OVERTAKE  IGNORANCE. 


145 


“Thus  by  the  shepherds  secrets  are  revealed, 
Which  from  all  other  men  are  kept  concealed. 
Come  to  the  shepherds,  then,  if  you  would  see 
Things  deep,  things  hid,  and  that  mysterious  be.” 


When  they  were  about  to  depart,  one  of  the  shepherds  gave  them  a note 
of  the  way.  Another  of  them  bid  them  beware  of  the  Flatterer.  The 
third  bid  them  take  heed  that  they  slept  not  upon  the  Enchanted  Ground. 
And  the  fourth  bid  them  God  speed. 

So  I awoke  from  my  dream. 

And  I slept,  and  dreamed  again,  and 
saw  the  same  two  pilgrims  going  down 
the  mountains  along  the  highway 
towards  the  city.  Now,  a little  below 
these  mountains,  on  the  left  hand,  lieth 
the  country  of  Conceit;  from  which 
country  there  comes  into  the  way  in 
which  the  pilgrims  walked  a little 
crooked  lane.  Here,  therefore,  they  met 
with  a very  brisk  lad,  that  came  out  of 
that  country,  and  his  name  was  Igno- 
rance. So  Christian  asked  him  from 
what  parts  he  came,  and  whither  he  was 
going. 

Ignor.  Sir,  I was  born  in  the  country 
that  lieth  off  there  a little  on  the  left 
hand,  and  I am  going  to  the  Celestial 
City. 

Chris.  But  how  do  you  think  to  get  in  at  the  gate?  for  you  may  find 
some  difficulty  there. 

Ignor.  “As  other  people  do,"  said  he. 

Chris.  But  what  have  you  to  show  at  the  gate,  that  may  cause  that  the 
gate  should  be  opened  to  you  ? 

Ignor.  I know  my  Lord’s  will,  and  have  been  a good  liver;  I pay  every 
man  his  own;  I pray,  fast,  pay  tithes,  and  give  alms,  and  have  left  my 
country  for  whither  I am  going. 


146 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Chris.  But  thou  earnest  not  in  at  the  wicket-gate  that  is  at  the  head  of 
this  way:  thou  earnest  in  hither  through  that  same  crooked  lane;  and  there- 
fore I fear,  however  thou  mayest  think  of  thyself,  when  the  reckoning  day 
shall  come,  thou  wilt  have  laid  to  thy  charge  that  thou  art  a thief  and  a 
robber,  instead  of  getting  admittance  into  the  city. 

Ignor.  Gentlemen,  ye  be  utter  strangers  to  me:  I know  you  not:  be 
content  to  follow  the  religion  of  your  country,  and  I will  follow  the 

religion  of  mine.  I hope  all  will  be 
well.  And,  as  for  the  gate  that  you 
talk  of,  all  the  world  knows  that  that 
is  a great  way  off  of  our  country.  I 
cannot  think  that  any  man  in  all  our 
parts  doth  so  much  as  know  the  way 
to  it;  nor  need  they  matter  whether 
they  do  or  no,  since  we  have,  as  you 
see,  a fine,  pleasant  green  lane,  that 
comes  down  from  our  country,  the  next 
way  into  the  way. 

When  Christian  saw  that  the  man  was 
wise  in  his  own  conceit,  he  said  to 
Hopeful,  whisperingly,  “There  is  more 
hope  of  a fool  than  of  him.”  (Prov. 
xxvi.  12.)  And  said,  moreover,  “When 
he  that  is  a fool  walketh  by  the  way,  his 
wisdom  faileth  him,  and  he  saith  to 
every  one  that  he  is  a fool.  (Eccles. 
x.  3.)  What!  shall  we  talk  further  with 
him,  or  outgo  him  at  present,  and  so 
leave  him  to  think  of  what  he  hath  heard  already,  and  then  stop  again  for 
him  afterwards,  and  see  if  by  degrees  we  can  do  any  good  to  him?” 

Then  said  Hopeful, 


‘A  man  whom  seven  devils  had  bound.” 


“Let  Ignorance  a little  while  now  muse 
On  what  is  said,  and  let  him  not  refuse 
Good  counsel  to  embrace,  lest  he  remain 
Still  ignorant  of  what  ’s  the  chiefest  gain. 

God  saith,  those  that  no  understanding  have 
(Although  He  made  them),  them  He  will  not  save.” 


So  they  came  up  all  to  him,  and  with  threatening  language  bid  him  stand.” 


... 


DEAD  MAN'S  LANE. 


149 


Hope.  He  further  added,  “It  is  not  good,  I think,  to  say  all  to  him  at 
once:  let  us  pass  him  by,  if  you  will,  and  talk  to  him  anon,  even  as  he  is 
able  to  bear  it." 

So  they  both  went  on,  and  Ignorance  he  came  after.  Now,  when  they 
had  passed  him  a little  way,  they  entered  into  a very  dark  lane,  where  they 
met  a man  whom  seven  devils  had  bound  with  seven  strong  cords,  and 
were  carrying  of  him  back  to  the  door  that  they  saw  on  the  side  of  the  hill. 
(Matt.  xii.  45;  Prov.  v.  22.)  Now  good  Christian  began  to  tremble,  and  so 
did  Hopeful  his  companion;  yet,  as  the  devils  led  away  the  man,  Christian 
looked  to  see  if  he  knew  him ; and  he  thought  it  might  be  one  Turn-away, 
that  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Apostacy.  But  he  did  not  perfectly  see  his  face, 
for  he  did  hang  his  head  like  a thief  that  is  found;  but,  being  gone  past, 
Hopeful  looked  after  him,  and  espied  on  his  back  a paper  with  this  inscrip- 
tion, “Wanton  professor  and  damnable  apostate.” 

Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  “Now  I call  to  remembrance  that  which 
was  told  of  a thing  that  happened  to  a good  man  hereabout.  The  name  of 
that  man  was  Little-Faith,  but  a good  man,  and  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of 
Sincere.  The  thing  was  this:  At  the  entering  in  at  this  passage,  there 
comes  down  from  Broad-way  Gate  a lane  called  Dead  Man’s  Lane;  so 
called  because  of  the  murders  that  are  commonly  done  there;  and  this 
Little-Faith,  going  on  pilgrimage  as  we  do  now,  chanced  to  sit  down  there, 
and  slept.  Now,  there  happened  at  that  time  to  come  down  that  lane,  from 
Broad-way  Gate,  three  sturdy  rogues,  and  their  names  were  Faint-heart, 
Mistrust,  and  Guilt,  three  brothers;  and  they,  espying  Little-Faith,  where 
he  was,  came  galloping  up  with  speed.  Now,  the  good  man  was  just 
awaked  from  his  sleep,  and  was  getting  up  to  go  on  his  journey.  So  they 
came  up  all  to  him,  and  with  threatening  language  bid  him  stand.  At  this, 
Little-Faith  looked  as  white  as  a clout,  and  had  neither  power  to  fight  nor 
fly.  Then  said  Faint-heart,  ‘Deliver  thy  purse;’  but  he,  making  no  haste 
to  do  it  (for  he  was  loth  to  lose  his  money),  Mistrust  ran  up  to  him,  and, 
thrusting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  pulled  out  thence  a bag  of  silver.  Then 
he  cried  out,  ‘Thieves!  thieves!’  With  that,  Guilt,  with  a great  club  that 
was  in  his  hand,  struck  Little-Faith  on  the  head,  and  with  that  blow  felled 
him  flat  to  the  ground,  where  he  lay  bleeding  as  one  that  would  bleed  to 
death.  All  this  while  the  thieves  stood  by.  But,  at  last,  they  hearing  that 
some  were  upon  the  road,  and  fearing  lest  it  should  be  one  Great-Grace, 
that  dwells  in  the  city  of  Good-Confidence,  they  betook  themselves  to  their 


150 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


heels,  and  left  this  good  man  to  shift  for  himself.  Now,  after  a while, 
Little-Faith  came  to  himself,  and,  getting  up,  made  shift  to  scramble  on  his 
way.  This  was  the  story.” 

Hope.  But  did  they  take  from  him  all  that  ever  he  had? 

Chris.  No;  the  place  where  his  jewels  were  they  never  ransacked ; so 
those  he  kept  still.  But,  as  I was  told,  the  good  man  was  much  afflicted 
for  his  loss,  for  the  thieves  got  most  of  his  spending  money.  That  which 
they  got  not,  as  I said,  were  jewels;  also  he  had  a little  odd  money  left,  but 
scarce  enough  to  bring  him  to  his  journey’s  end.  Nay,  if  I was  not  misin- 
formed, he  was  forced  to  beg  as  he  went,  to  keep  himself  alive,  for  his 
jewels  he  might  not  sell;  but,  beg  and  do  what  he  could,  he  went,  as  we  say, 
with  many  a hungry  belly  the  most  part  of  the  rest  of  the  way.  (I.  Pet. 
iv.  18.) 

Hope.  But  is  it  not  a wonder  they  got  not  from  him  his  certificate,  by 
which  he  was  to  receive  admission  at  the  Celestial  Gate? 

Chris.  It  is  a wonder;  but  they  got  not  that,  though  they  missed  it  not 
through  any  good  cunning  of  his;  for  he,  being  dismayed  by  their  coming 
upon  him,  had  neither  power  nor  skill  to  hide  anything;  so  it  was  more  by 
good  providence  than  by  his  endeavour,  that  they  missed  of  that  good 
thing.  (II.  Tim.  i.  12 — 14;  I.  Pet.  i.  5 — 9.) 

Hope.  But  it  must  needs  be  a comfort  to  him  that  they  got  not  his 
jewels  from  him. 

Chris.  It  might  have  been  great  comfort  to  him,  had  he  used  it  as  he 
should;  but  they  that  told  me  the  story' said,  that  he  made  but  little  use  of 
it  all  the  rest  of  the  way,  and  that  because  of  the  dismay  that  he  had  in 
their  taking  away  his  money.  Indeed,  he  forgot  it  a great  part  of  the  rest 
of  his  journey;  and  besides,  when  at  any  time  it  came  into  his  mind,  and  he 
began  to  be  comforted  therewith,  then  would  fresh  thoughts  of  his  loss 
come  again  upon  him,  and  those  thoughts  would  swallow  up  all. 

Hope.  Alas,  poor  man!  this  could  not  but  be  a great  grief  unto 
him. 

Chris.  Grief!  ay,  a grief  indeed.  Would  it  not  have  been  so  to  any  of 
us,  had  we  been  used  as  he,  to  be  robbed  and  wounded  too,  and  that  in  a 
strange  place,  as  he  was?  It  is  a wonder  he  did  not  die  with  grief,  poor 
heart!  I was  told  that  he  scattered  almost  all  the  rest  of  the  way  with 
nothing  but  doleful  and  bitter  complaints;  telling  also  to  all  that  overtook 
him,  or  that  he  overtook  in  the  way  as  he  went,  where  he  was  robbed,  and 


HOPEFUL  REBUKED. 


151 


how;  who  they  were  that  did  it,  and  what  he  had  lost;  how  he  was 
wounded,  and  that  he  hardly  escaped  with  life. 

Hope.  But  it  is  a wonder  that  his  necessities  did  not  put  him  upon 
selling  or  pawning  some  of  his  jewels,  that  he  might  have  wherewith  to 
relieve  himself  in  his  journey. 

Chris.  Thou  talkest  like  one  upon  whose  head  is  the  shell  to  this  very 
day.  For  what  should  he  pawn  them,  or  to  whom  should  he  sell  them? 
In  all  that  country  where  he  was  robbed,  his  jewels  were  not  accounted  of; 
nor  did  he  want  that  relief  which  could  from  thence  be  administered  to  him. 
Besides,  had  his  jewels  been  missing  at  the  gate  of  the  Celestial  City,  he 
had  (and  that  he  knew  well  enough)  been  excluded  from  an  inheritance 
there;  and  that  would  have  been  worse  to  him  than  the  appearance  and 
villany  of  ten  thousand  thieves. 

Hope.  Why  art  thou  so  tart,  my  brother?  Esau  sold  his  birthright,  and 
that  for  a mess  of  pottage  (Heb.  xii.  16),  and  that  birthright  was  his  greatest 
jewel;  and  if  he,  why  might  not  Little-Faith  do  so  too? 

Chris.  Esau  did  sell  his  birthright  indeed;  and  so  do  many  besides,  and, 
by  so  doing,  exclude  themselves  from  the  chief  blessing,  as  also  that  caitiff 
did.  But  you  must  put  a difference  betwixt  Esau  and  Little-Faith,  and 
also  betwixt  their  estates.  Esau  s birthright  was  typical ; but  Little- 
Faith’s  jewels  were  not  so.  Esau’s  belly  was  his  god ; but  Little-Faith’s 
belly  was  not  so.  Esau’s  want  lay  in  his  fleshly  appetite;  Little-Faith’s  did 
not  so.  Besides,  Esau  could  see  no  further  than  to  the  fulfilling  of  his 
lusts:  “For  I am  at  the  point  to  die,’’  said  he;  “and  what  good  will  this 
birthright  do  me?”  (Gen.  xxv.  32.)  But  Little-Faith,  though  it  was  his 
lot  to  have  but  little  faith,  was  by  his  little  faith  kept  from  such  extrava- 
gances, and  made  to  see  and  prize  his  jewels  more  than  to  sell  them,  as 
Esau  did  his  birthright.  You  read  not  anywhere  that  Esau  had  faith, — no, 
not  so  much  as  a little;  therefore  no  marvel  if,  where  the  flesh  only  bears  sway 
(as  it  will  in  that  man  where  no  faith  is  to  resist),  he  sells  his. birthright,  and 
his  soul,  and  all,  and  that  to  the  devil  of  hell;  for  it  is  with  such  as  it  is  with 
the  ass,  who  in  her  occasions  cannot  be  turned  away.  (Jer.  ii.  24.)  When 
their  minds  are  set  upon  their  lusts,  they  will  have  them  whatever  they  cost. 
But  Little-Faith  was  of  another  temper:  his  mind  was  on  things  divine;  his 
livelihood  was  upon  things  that  were  spiritual  and  from  above:  therefore  to 
what  end  should  he  that  is  of  such  a temper  sell  his  jewels  (had  there  been 
any  that  would  have  bought  them),  to  fill  his  mind  with  empty  things? 


152 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Hopeful 

swaggers 


Will  a man  give  a penny  to  fill  his  belly  with  hay?  or  can  you  persuade  the 
turtle-dove  to  live  upon  carrion,  like  the  crow?  Though  faithless  ones  can, 
for  carnal  lusts,  pawn,  or  mortgage,  or  sell  what  they  have,  and  themselves 
outright  to  boot,  yet  they  that  have  faith,  saving  faith,  though  but  a little  of 
it,  cannot  do  so.  Here,  therefore,  my  brother,  is  thy  mistake. 

Hope.  I acknowledge  it;  but  yet  your  severe  reflection  had  almost  made 
me  angry. 

Chris.  Why,  I did  but  compare  thee  to  some  of  the  birds  that  are  of  the 
brisker  sort,  who  will  run  to  and  fro  in  untrodden  paths  with  the  shell  upon 
their  heads;  but  pass  by  that,  and  consider  the  matter  under  debate,  and  all 
shall  be  well  betwixt  thee  and  me. 

Hope.  But,  Christian,  these  three  fellows,  I am  persuaded  in  my  heart, 
are  but  a company  of  cowards:  would  they  have  run  else,  think 
you,  as  they  did  at  the  noise  of  one  that  was  coming  on  the 
road?  Why  did  not  Little-Faith  pluck  up  a greater  heart? 
He  might,  methinks,  have  stood  one  brush  with  them,  and  have  yielded 
when  there  had  been  no  remedy. 

Chris.  That  they  are  cowards  many  have  said,  but  few  have  found  it  so 
in  the  time  of  trial.  As  for  a great  heart,  Little-Faith  had  none;  and  I 
perceive  by  thee,  my  brother,  hadst  thou  been  the  man  con- 
cerned, thou  art  but  for  a brush,  and  then  to  yield.  And, 
verily,  since  this  is  the  height  of  thy  stomach  now  they  are  at 

a distance  from  us,  should  they  appear  to  thee  as  they  did  to 

him,  they  might  put  thee  to  second  thoughts.  But  consider 
again,  they  are  but  journeymen-thieves;  they  serve  under  the 
king  of  the  bottomless  pit,  who,  if  need  be,  will  come  in  to 
their  aid  himself,  and  his  voice  is  as  the  roaring  of  a lion. 
(I.  Pet.  v.  8.)  I myself  have  been  engaged  as  this  Little-Faith 
was,  and  I found  it  a terrible  thing.  These  three  villains  set 
upon  me;  and  I beginning  like  a Christian  to  resist,  they  gave  but  a call, 
and  in  came  their  master.  I would,  as  the  saying  is,  have  given  my  life  for 

a penny,  but  that,  as  God  would  have  it,  I was  clothed  with  armour  of 

proof.  Ay,  and  yet,  though  I was  so  harnessed,  I found  it  hard  work  to 
quit  myself  like  a man.  No  man  can  tell  what  in  that  combat  attends  us, 
but  he  that  hath  been  in  the  battle  himself. 

Hope.  Well,  but  they  ran,  you  see,  when  they  did  but  suppose  that  one 
Great-Grace  was  in  the  way. 


No  great 
heart  for  God 
where  there 
is  but  little 
faith. 

We  have 
more  courage 
when  we  are 
out  than 
when  we 
are  in. 


HOPEFUL  REBUKED. 


153 


Chris.  True,  they  have  often  fled,  both  they  and  their  master,  when 
Great-Grace  hath  but  appeared;  and  no  marvel,  for  he  is  the  King’s 
champion.  But  I trow  you  will  put  some  difference  between  Little-Faith 
and  the  King’s  champion?  All  the  King’s  subjects  are  not  His  champions, 
nor  can  they  when  tried  do  such  feats  of  war  as  he.  Is  it  meet  to  think 
that  a little  child  should  handle  Goliath  as  David  did?  or  that  there  should 
be  the  strength  of  an  ox  in  a wren?  Some  are  strong,  some  are  weak; 
some  have  great  faith,  some  have  little:  this  man  was  one  of  the  weak,  and 
therefore  he  went  to  the  wall. 

Hope.  I would  it  had  been  Great-Grace  for  their  sakes. 

Chris.  If  it  had  been  he,  he  might  have  had  his  hands  full ; for  I must 
tell  you  that,  though  Great-Grace  is  excellent  good  at  his  weapons,  and  has, 
and  can,  so  long  as  he  keeps  them  at  sword’s  point,  do  well  enough  with 
them;  yet,  if  they  get  within  him,  even  Faint-heart,  Mistrust,  or  the  other, 
it  shall  go  hard  but  they  will  throw  up  his  heels.  And  when  a man  is 
down,  you  know,  what  can  he  do? 

Whoso  looks  well  upon  Great-Grace’s  face  will  see  those  scars  and  cuts 
there,  that  shall  easily  give  demonstration  of  what  I say.  Yea,  once  I 
heard  that  he  should  say  (and  that  when  he  was  in  the  combat),  AVe 
despaired  even  of  life.”  How  did  these  sturdy  rogues  and  their  fellows 
make  David  groan,  mourn,  and  roar!  Yea,  Heman  (Psa.  lxxxviii.),  and 
Hezekiah  too,  though  champions  in  their  days,  wrere  forced  to  bestir  when 
by  these  assaulted;  and  yet,  notwithstanding,  they  had  their  coats  soundly 
brushed  by  them.  Peter,  upon  a time,  would  go  try  what  he  could  do; 
but  though  some  do  say  of  him  that  he  is  the  prince  of  the  apostles,  they 
handled  him  so  that  they  made  him  at  last  afraid  of  a sorry  girl. 

Besides,  their  king  is  at  their  whistle — he  is  never  out  of  hearing;  and  if 
at  any  time  they  be  put  to  the  worst,  he,  if  possible,  comes  in  to  help  them; 
and  of  him  it  is  said,  “The  sword  of  him  that  layeth  at  him  cannot  hold; 
the  spear,  the  dart,  nor  the  habergeon.  He  esteemeth  iron  as  straw,  and 
brass  as  rotten  wood.  The  arrow  cannot  make  him  flee;  sling-stones  are 
turned  with  him  into  stubble.  Darts  are  counted  as  stubble:  he  laugheth 
at  the  shaking  of  a spear.”  ( Job  xli.  26 — 29.)  What  can  a man  do  in  this 
case?  It  is  true,  if  a man  could  at  every  turn  have  Job’s  horse,  and  had 
skill  and  courage  to  ride  him,  he  might  do  notable  things.  For  his  neck  is 
clothed  with  thunder.  He  will  not  be  afraid  as  the  grasshopper:  “the  glory 
of  his  nostrils  is  terrible.  He  paweth  in  the  valley,  and  rejoiceth  in  his 


154 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


strength:  he  goeth  on  to  meet  the  armed  men.  He  mocketh  at  fear,  and  is 
not  affrighted,  neither  turneth  he  his  back  from  the  sword.  The  quiver 
rattleth  against  him,  the  glittering  spear  and  the  shield.  He  swalloweth  the 
ground  with  fierceness  and  rage;  neither  believeth  he  that  it  is  the  sound  of 
the  trumpet.  He  saith  among  the  trumpets,  Ha!  ha!  and  he  smelleth  the 
battle  afar  off,  the  thunder  of  the  captains,  and  the  shouting.”  (Job  xxxix. 

>9 — 25) 

But  for  such  footmen  as  thee  and  I are,  let  us  never  desire  to  meet 
with  an  enemy,  nor  vaunt  as  if  we  could  do  better,  when  we  hear  of 
others  that  have  been  foiled,  nor  be  tickled  at  the  thoughts  of  our  man- 
hood; for  such  commonly  come  by  the  worst  when  tried.  Witness  Peter, 
of  whom  I made  mention  before:  he  would  swagger,  ay,  he  would;  he 
would,  as  his  vain  mind  prompted  him  to  say,  do  better  and  stand  more 
for  his  Master  than  all  men;  but  who  so  foiled  and  run  down  by  those 
villains  as  he? 

When,  therefore,  we  hear  that  such  robberies  are  done  on  the  King’s 
highway,  two  things  become  us  to  do. 

First,  to  go  out  harnessed,  and  to  be  sure  to  take  a shield  with  us ; for  it 
was  for  want  of  that,  that  he  that  laid  so  lustily  at  Leviathan  could  not 
make  him  yield;  for,  indeed,  if  that  be  wanting,  he  fears  us  not  at  all. 
Therefore  he  that  had  skill  hath  said,  “Above  all,  take  the  shield  of  faith, 
wherewith  ye  shall  be  able  to  quench  all  the  fiery  darts  of  the  wicked.” 
(Eph.  vi.  1 6.) 

Secondly,  it  is  good  also  that  we  desire  of  the  King  a convoy;  yea,  that 
He  will  go  with  us  Himself.  This  made  David  rejoice  when  in  the  Valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death ; and  Moses  was  rather  for  dying  where  he  stood, 
than  to  go  one  step  without  his  God.  (Exod.  xxxiii.  1 5.)  Oh,  my  brother, 
if  he  will  but  go  along  with  us,  what  need  we  be  afraid  of  ten  thousands 
that  shall  set  themselves  against  us?  (Psa.  iii.  5 — 8;  xxvii.  1 — 3.)  But, 
without  Him,  the  proud  helpers  fall  under  the  slain.  (Isa.  x.  4.) 

I,  for  my  part,  have  been  in  the  fray  before  now;  and  though  (through  the 
goodness  of  Him  that  is  best)  I am,  as  you  see,  alive,  yet  I cannot  boast  of 
my  manhood.  Glad  shall  I be  if  I meet  with  no  more  such  brunts;  though 
I fear  we  are  not  got  beyond  all  danger.  However,  since  the  lion  and  the 
bear  have  not  as  yet  devoured  me,  I hope  God  will  also  deliver  us  from  the 
next  uncircumcised  Philistine. 

Then  sang  Christian : 


OBSTACLES  BY  THE  WAY. 


155 


“Poor  Little-Faith!  hast  been  among  the  thieves? 
Wast  robbed?  Remember  this:  whoso  believes 
And  gets  more  faith,  shall  then  a victor  be 
Over  ten  thousand  ; else,  scarce  over  three.” 


So  they  went  on,  and  Ignorance  followed.  They  went  then  till  they 
came  at  a place  where  they  saw  a way  put  itself  into  their  way,  and  seemed 
withal  to  lie  as  straight  as  the  way  which  they  should  go;  and  here  they 
knew  not  which  of  the  two  to  take,  for  both  seemed  straight  before  them ; 
therefore  here  they  stood  still  to  consider.  And,  as  they  were  thinking 
about  the  way,  behold,  a man,  black  of  flesh,  but  covered  with  a very  light 
robe,  came  to  them,  and  asked  them  why  they  stood  there.  They  answered 
they  were  going  to  the  Celestial  City,  but  knew  not  which  of  these  ways  to 
take,  “ Follow  me,”  said  the  man ; “ it  is  thither  that  I am  going.”  So  they 
followed  him  to  the  way  that  but  now  came  into  the  road,  which  by  degrees 
turned  and  turned  them  so  from  the  city  that  they  desired  to  go  to,  that,  in 
a little  time,  their  faces  were  turned  away  from  it;  yet  they  followed  him. 
But  by-and  bye,  before  they  were  aware,  he  led  them  both  within  the  com- 
pass of  a net,  in  which  they  were  both  so  entangled  that  they  knew  not 
what  to  do;  and  with  that,  the  white  robe  fell  off  the  black  man’s  back. 
Then  they  saw  where  they  were.  Wherefore,  there  they  lay  crying  some 
time,  for  they  could  not  get  themselves  out. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  “ Now  do  I see  myself  in  an 
error.  Did  not  the  shepherds  bid  us  beware  of  flatterers?  As  is  the  saying 
of  the  Wise  Man,  so  we  have  found  it  this  day:  ‘A  man  that  flattereth  his 
neighbour,  spreadeth  a net  at  his  feet.’”  (Prov.  xxix.  5.) 

Hope.  They  also  gave  us  a note  of  directions  about  the  way,  for  our 
more  sure  finding  thereof;  but  therein  we  have  also  forgotten  to  read,  and 
have  not  kept  ourselves  from  the  paths  of  the  destroyer.  Here  David  was 
wiser  than  we;  for  saith  he,  “Concerning  the  works  of  men,  by  the  word  of 
thy  lips  I have  kept  me  from  the  paths  of  the  destroyer.”  (Psa.  xvii.  4.) 
Thus  they  lay  bewailing  themselves  in  the  net.  At  last  they  espied  a 
Shining  One  coming  towards  them  with  a whip  of  small  cord  in  his  hand. 
When  he  was  come  to  the  place  where  they  were,  he  asked  them  whence 
they  came,  and  what  they  did  there.  They  told  him  that  they  were  poor 
pilgrims  going  to  Zion,  but  were  led  out  of  their  way  by  a black  man 
clothed  in  white,  “Who  bid  us,”  said  they,  “follow  him,  for  he  was  going 


1 56 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


thither  too.”  Then  said  he  with  the  whip,  “ It  is  a Flatterer,  a false  prophet, 
that  hath  transformed  himself  into  an  angel  of  light.”  (Prov.  xxix.  5;  Dan. 
xi.  32;  II.  Cor.  xi.  13 — 15.)  So  he  rent  the  net,  and  let  the  men  out.  Then 
said  he  to  them,  “Follow  me,  that  I may  set  you  in  your  way  again.”  So 
he  led  them  back  to  the  way  which  they  had  left  to  follow  the  Flatterer. 
Then  he  asked  them,  saying,  “Where  did  you  lie  the  last  night?”  They 
said,  “With  the  shepherds  upon  the  Delectable  Mountains.”  He  asked 
them  then  if  they  had  not  of  those  shepherds-  a note  of  direction  for  the 
way.  They  answered,  “Yes.”  “But  did  you  not,”  said  he,  “when  you 
were  at  a stand,  pluck  out  and  read  your  note?”  They  answered,  “No.” 
He  asked  them,  “Why?”  They  said  they  forgot.  He  asked  them,  more- 
over, if  the  shepherds  did  not  bid  them  beware  of  the  Flatterer.  They 
answered,  “Yes;  but  we  did  not  imagine,”  said  they,  “that  this  fine-spoken 
man  had  been  he.”  (Rom.  xvi.  18.) 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  he  commanded  them  to  lie  down;  which 
when  they  did,  he  chastised  them  sore,  to  teach  them  the  good  way  wherein 
they  should  walk  (Deut.  xxv.  2;  II.  Chron.  vi.  26,  27);  and,  as  he  chastised 
them,  he  said,  “As  many  as  I love,  I rebuke  and  chasten;  be  zealous,  there- 
fore, and  repent.”  (Rev.  iii.  19.)  This  done,  he  bid  them  go  on  their  way, 
and  take  good  heed  to  the  other  directions  of  the  shepherds.  So  they 
thanked  him  for  all  his  kindness,  and  went  softly  along  the  right  way, 
singing: 

“ Come  hither,  you  that  walk  along  the  way, 

See  how  the  pilgrims  fare  that  go  astray; 

They  catched  are  in  an  entangling  net, 

’Cause  they  good  counsel  lightly  did  forget ; 

’T  is  true,  they  rescued  were;  but  yet,  you  see, 

They  ’re  scourged  to  boot:  let  this  your  caution  be.” 


Now,  after  awhile  they  perceived  afar  oft',  one  coming  softly  and  alone, 
all  along  the  highway,  to  meet  them.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow, 
“Yonder  is  a man  with  his  back  towards  Zion,  and  he  is  coming  to 
meet  us.” 

H ope.  I see  him:  let  us  take  heed  to  ourselves,  lest  he  should  prove  a 
flatterer  also. 

So  he  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  at  last  came  up  to  them.  His  name 
was  Atheist,  and  he  asked  them  whither  they  were  going. 


Then  Atheist  fell  Into  a very  great  laughter." 


-3i  £11  I ^^£  ' n I 

■ I 


ATHEIST  MET  WITH. 


159 


Chris.  We  are  going  to  Mount  Zion. 

Then  Atheist  fell  into  a very  great  laughter. 

Chris.  What  is  the  meaning  of  your  laughter? 

Atheist.  I laugh  to  see  what  ignorant  persons  you  are,  to  take  upon 
yourselves  so  tedious  a journey,  and  yet  are  like  to  have  nothing  but  your 
travel  for  your  pains. 

Chris.  Why,  man,  do  you  think  we  shall  not  be  received? 

Atheist.  Received!  There  is  no  such  a place  as  you  dream  of  in  all 
this  world. 

Chris.  But  there  is  in  the  world  to  come. 

Atheist.  When  I was  at  home  in  mine  own  country,  I heard  as  you 
now  affirm,  and,  from  that  hearing,  went  out  to  see,  and  have  been  seeking 
this  city  these  twenty  years,  but  find  no  more  of  it  than  I did  the  first  day 
I set  out.  (Jer.  xxii.  12;  Eccles.  x.  15.) 

Chris.  We  have  both  heard  and  believe  that  there  is  such  a place  to 
be  found. 

Atheist.  Had  not  I,  when  at  home,  believed,  I had  not  come  thus  far 
to  seek;  but,  finding  none  (and  yet  I should  had  there  been  such  a place 
to  be  found,  for  I have  gone  to  seek  it  farther  than  you),  I am  going  back 
again,  and  will  seek  to  refresh  myself  with  the  things  that  I then  cast  away 
for  hopes  of  that  which  I now  see  is  not. 

Chris.  Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  his  fellow,  “Is  it  true  which  this 
man  hath  said?” 

Hope.  Take  heed;  he  is  one  of  the  flatterers.  Remember  what  it  hath 
cost  us  once  already  for  hearkening  to  such  kind  of  fellows. 

What!  no  Mount  Zion?  Did  we  not  see  from  the  Delectable  A remem- 
Mountains  the  gate  of  the  city?  Also,  are  we  not  now  to  walk  ^ 

by  faith?  (II.  Cor.  v.  7.)  Let  us  go  on,  lest  the  man  with  the  tisemcnt  is  a 
whip  overtake  us  again.  You  should  have  taught  me  that  present3"1^ 
lesson,  which  I will  round  you  in  the  ears  withal:  “Cease,  my  temptation, 
son,  to  hear  the  instruction  that  causeth  to  err  from  the  words 
of  knowledge.”  (Prov.  xix.  27.)  I say,  my  brother,  cease  to  hear  him,  and 
let  us  believe  to  the  saving  of  the  soul.  (Heb.  x.  39.) 

Chris.  My  brother,  I did  not  put  the  question  to  thee  for  that  I 
doubted  of  the  truth  of  our  belief  myself,  but  to  prove  thee,  and  to 
fetch  from  thee  a fruit  of  the  honesty  of  thy  heart.  As  for  this  man,  I 
know  that  he  is  blinded  by  the  god  of  this  world.  Let  thee  and  I go 


i6o 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


on,  knowing  that  we  have  belief  of  the  truth,  and  no  lie  is  of  the  truth. 
(I.  John  ii.  21.) 

Hope.  Now  I do  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God. 

So  they  turned  away  from  the  man,  and  he,  laughing  at  them,  went 
his  way. 

I then  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  till  they  came  into  a certain 
country,  whose  air  naturally  tended  to  make  one  drowsy  if  he  came  a 
stranger  into  it.  And  here  Hopeful  began  to  be  very  dull  and  heavy  of 
sleep;  wherefore  he  said  unto  Christian,  “I  do  now  begin  to  grow  so 
drowsy,  that  I can  scarcely  hold  up  mine  eyes;  let  us  lie  down  here,  and 
take  one  nap.” 

Chris.  “By  no  means,”  said  the  other,  “lest,  sleeping,  we  never  awake 
more.” 

Hope.  Why,  my  brother?  sleep  is  sweet  to  the  labouring  man:  we  may 
be  refreshed  if  we  take  a nap. 

Chris.  Do  not  you  remember  that  one  of  the  shepherds  bid  us  beware 
of  the  Enchanted  Ground  ? He  meant  by  that  that  we  should  beware  of 
sleeping;  wherefore  let  us  not  sleep  as  do  others,  but  let  us  watch  and  be 
sober.  (I.  Thess.  v.  6.) 

Hope.  I acknowledge  myself  in  fault;  and  had  I been  here  alone,  I had, 
by  sleeping,  run  the  danger  of  death.  I see  it  is  true  that  the  Wise  Man 
saith,  “Two  are  better  than  one.”  (Eccles.  iv.  9.)  Hitherto  hath  thy 
company  been  my  mercy;  and  thou  shalt  have  a good  reward  for  thy 
labour. 

Chris.  “Now,  then,”  said  Christian,  “to  prevent  drowsiness  in  this  place, 
let  us  fall  into  good  discourse.” 

Hope.  “With  all  my  heart,”  said  the  other. 

Chris.  Where  shall  we  begin? 

H ope.  Where  Cod  began  with  us.  But  do  you  begin,  if  you 
please. 

Chris.  I will  sing  you  first  this  song: 


“ When  saints  do  sleepy  grow,  let  them  come  hither, 
And  hear  how  these  two  pilgrims  talk  together; 
Yea,  let  them  learn  of  them,  in  any  wise, 

Thus  to  keep  ope  their  drowsy,  slumbering  eyes. 
Saints’  fellowship,  if  it  be  managed  well, 

Keeps  them  awake,  and  that  in  spite  of  hell.” 


HOPEFUL  NARRATES  HIS  CONVERSION. 


161 


Chris.  Then  Christian  began,  and  said,  “I  will  ask  you  a question. 
How  came  you  to  think  at  first  of  doing  as  you  do  now?” 

Hope.  Do  you  mean,  how  came  I at  first  to  look  after  the  good  of 
my  soul? 

Chris.  Yes,  that  is  my  meaning. 

Hope.  I continued  a great  while  in  the  delight  of  those  things  which 
were  seen  and  sold  at  our  fair;  things  which  I believe  now  would  have, 
had  I continued  in  them  still,  drowned  me  in  perdition  and  destruction. 

Chris.  What  things  were  they? 

Hope.  All  the  treasures  and  riches  of  the  world.  Also  I delighted 
much  in  rioting,  revelling,  drinking,  swearing,  lying,  uncleanness,  Sabbath- 
breaking, and  what  not,  that  tended  to  destroy  the  soul.  But  I found  at 
last,  by  hearing  and  considering  of  things  that  are  divine,  which  indeed  I 
heard  of  you,  as  also  of  beloved  Faithful,  that  was  put  to  death  for  his 
faith  and  good  living  in  Vanity  Fair,  that  the  end  of  these  things  is  death 
(Rom.  vi.  21 — 23);  and  that,  for  these  things’  sake,  the  wrath  of  God 
cometh  upon  the  children  of  disobedience.  (Eph.  v.  6.) 

Chris.  And  did  you  presently  fall  under  the  power  of  this  conviction? 

Hope.  No;  I was  not  willing  presently  to  know  the  evil  of  sin,  nor  the 
damnation  that  follows  upon  the  commission  of  it ; but  endeavoured,  when 
my  mind  at  first  began  to  be  shaken  with  the  Word,  to  shut  mine  eyes 
against  the  light  thereof. 

Chris.  But  what  was  the  cause  of  your  carrying  of  it  thus  to  the  first 
workings  of  God’s  blessed  Spirit  upon  you  ? 

Hope.  The  causes  were, — Firstly,  I was  ignorant  that  this  was  the 
work  of  God  upon  me.  I never  thought  that,  by  awakenings  for  sin,  God 
at  first  begins  the  conversion  of  a sinner.  Secondly,  Sin  was  yet  very 
sweet  to  my  flesh,  and  I was  loth  to  leave  it.  Thirdly,  I could  not  tell  how 
to  part  with  mine  old  companions,  their  presence  and  actions  were  so 
desirable  unto  me.  Fourthly,  The  hours  in  which  convictions  were  upon 
me,  were  such  troublesome  and  such  heart-affrighting  hours,  that  I could 
not  bear,  no,  not  so  much  as  the  remembrance  of  them  upon  my  heart. 

Chris.  Then,  as  it  seems,  sometimes  you  got  rid  of  your  trouble  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  verily,  but  it  would  come  into  my  mind  again,  and  then  I 
should  be  as  bad,  nay,  worse  than  I was  before. 

Chris.  Why,  what  was  it  that  brought  your  sins  to  mind  again? 

Hope.  Many  things;  as, 


11 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


162 


1.  If  I did  but  meet  a good  man  in  the  streets;  or, 

2.  If  I have  heard  any  read  in  the  Bible;  or, 

3.  If  mine  head  did  begin  to  ache ; or, 

4.  If  I were  told  that  some  of  my  neighbours  were  sick;  or, 

5.  If  I heard  the  bell  toll  for  some  that  were  dead ; or, 

6.  If  I thought  of  dying  myself;  or, 

7.  If  I heard  that  sudden  death  happened  to  others; 

8.  But  especially  when  I thought  of  myself  that  I must  quickly  come  to 
judgment. 

Chris.  And  could  you  at  any  time  with  ease  get  oft'  the  guilt  of  sin, 
when  by  any  of  these  ways  it  came  upon  you  ? 

Hope.  No,  not  I;  for  then  they  got  faster  hold  of  my  conscience;  and 
then,  if  I did  but  think  of  going  back  to  sin  (though  my  mind  was  turned 
against  it),  it  would  be  double  torment  to  me. 

Chris.  And  how  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.  I thought  I must  endeavour  to  mend  my  life;  for  else,  thought  I, 
I am  sure  to  be  damned. 

Chris.  And  did  you  endeavour  to  mend? 

Hope.  Yes,  and  fled  from  not  only  my  sins,  but  sinful  company  too,  and 
betook  me  to  religious  duties,  as  praying,  reading,  weeping  for  sin,  speaking 
truth  to  my  neighbours,  etc.  These  things  did  I,  with  many  others,  too 
much  here  to  relate. 

Chris.  And  did  you  think  yourself  well  then? 

Hope.  Yes,  for  awhile;  but,  at  the  last,  my  trouble  came  tumbling  upon 
me  again,  and  that  over  the  neck  of  all  my  reformations. 

Chris.  How  came  that  about,  since  you  were  now  reformed? 

Hope.  There  were  several  things  brought  it  upon  me;  especially  such 
sayings  as  these:  “All  our  righteousness  are  as  filthy  rags”  (Isa.  lxiv.  6); 
“By  the  works  of  the  law  shall  no  flesh  be  justified”  (Gal.  ii.  16);  “When 
ye  shall  have  done  all  those  things  which  are  commanded  you,  say,  We  are 
unprofitable"  (Luke  xvii.  10);  with  many  more  such  like.  From  whence 
I began  to  reason  with  myself  thus:  If  all  my  righteousness  are  filthy 
rags,  if  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  man  can  be  justified,  and  if,  when 
we  have  done  all,  we  are  yet  unprofitable,  then  it  is  but  a folly  to  think 
of  heaven  by  the  law.  I further  thought  thus:  If  a man  runs  a hundred 
pounds  into  the  shopkeeper’s  debt,  and  after  that  shall  pay  for  all  that 
he  shall  fetch;  yet  his  old  debt  stands  still  in  the  book  uncrossed;  for 


HOPEFUL  NARRATES  HIS  CONVERSION. 


163 


the  which  the  shopkeeper  may  sue  him,  and  cast  him  into  prison  till  he 
shall  pay  the  debt. 

Chris.  Well,  and  how  did  you  apply  this  to  yourself? 

Hope.  Why,  I thought  thus  with  myself:  I have  by  my  sins  run  a great 
way  into  God’s  book,  and  my  now  reforming  will  not  pay  off  that  score. 
Therefore  I should  think  still,  under  all  my  present  amendments,  But  how 
shall  I be  freed  from  that  damnation  that  I have  brought  myself  in  danger 
of  by  my  former  transgressions  ? 

Chris.  A very  good  application;  but  pray  go  on. 

Hope.  Another  thing  that  hath  troubled  me  ever  since  my  late  amend- 
ment is,  that  if  I look  narrowly  into  the  best  of  what  I do  now,  I still  see 
sin,  new  sin,  mixing  itself  with  the  best  of  that  I do;  so  that  now  I am 
forced  to  conclude  that,  notwithstanding  my  former  fond  conceits  of  myseli 
and  duties,  I have  committed  sin  enough  in  one  duty  to  send  me  to  hell, 
though  my  former  life  had  been  faultless. 

Chris.  And  what  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.  Do!  I could  not  tell  what  to  do,  till  I brake  my  mind  to  Faithful; 
for  he  and  I were  well  acquainted.  And  he  told  me,  that  unless  I could 
obtain  the  righteousness  of  a Man  that  never  had  sinned,  neither  mine  own 
nor  all  the  righteousness  of  the  world  could  save  me. 

Chris.  And  did  you  think  he  spake  true? 

Hope.  Had  he  told  me  so  when  I was  pleased  and  satisfied  with  mine 
own  amendment,  I had  called  him  fool  for  his  pains;  but  now,  since  I see 
mine  own  infirmity,  and  the  sin  which  cleaves  to  my  best  performance,  I 
have  been  forced  to  be  of  his  opinion. 

Chris.  But  did  you  think,  when  at  first  he  suggested  it  to  you,  that 
there  was  such  a Man  to  be  found,  of  whom  it  might  justly  be  said  that  He 
never  committed  sin? 

Hope.  I must  confess  the  words  at  first  sounded  strangely;  but  after  a 
little  more  talk  and  company  with  him  I had  full  conviction  about  it. 

Chris.  And  did  you  ask  him  what  Man  this  was,  and  how  you  must  be 
justified  by  Him? 

Hope.  Yes,  and  he  told  me  it  was  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  dwelleth  on  the 
right  hand  of  the  Most  High.  (Heb.  x.  12.)  And  thus,  said  A morc 
he,  you  must  be  justified  by  Him,  even  by  trusting  to  what  He  particular 
hath  done  by  Himself  in  the  days  of  1 1 is  flesh,  and  suffered  Jlscovcry  of 

/ J , the  way  to 

when  He  did  hang  on  the  tree.  (Rom.  iv.  5;  Col.  i.  14;  I.  Pet.  be  saved. 


164 


THE  PILGRIM  'S  PROGRESS. 


i.  19.)  I asked  him  further,  How  that  Man’s  righteousness  could  be  of  that 
efficacy  to  justify  another  before  God  ? And  he  told  me  He  was  the  mighty 
God,  and  did  what  He  did,  and  died  the  death  also,  not  for  Himself,  but  for 
me;  to  whom  His  doings,  and  the  worthiness  of  them,  should  be  imputed, 
if  I believed  on  Him. 

Chris.  And  what  did  you  do  then? 

Hope.  I made  my  objections  against  my  believing,  for  that  I thought 
He  was  not  willing  to  save  me. 

Chris.  And  what  said  Faithful  to 
you  then? 

Hope.  He  bid  me  to  go  to  Him  and 
see.  Then  I said  it  was  presumption. 
But  he  said,  No,  for  I was  invited  to 
come.  (Matt.  xi.  28.)  Then  he  gave 
me  a book  of  Jesus’  inditing  to  encour- 
age me  the  more  freely  to  come ; and  he 
said  concerning  that  book,  that  every 
jot  and  tittle  thereof  stood  firmer  than 
heaven  and  earth.  (Matt.  xxiv.  35.) 
Then  I asked  him  what  I must  do  when 
I came;  and  he  told  me  I must  entreat 
on  my  knees  (Psa.  xcv.  6;  Dan.  vi.  10), 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul  (Jer.  xxix. 
12,  13),  the  Father  to  reveal  Him  to  me. 
Then  I asked  him  further  how  I must 
make  my  supplication  to  Him;  and  he 
said,  Go,  and  thou  shalt  find  Him  upon 
a mercy-seat,  where  He  sits  all  the  year 
long  to  give  pardon  and  forgiveness  to 
them  that  come.  I told  him  that  I knew  not  what  to  say  when  I came;  and 
he  bid  me  say  to  this  effect:  God  be  merciful  to  me  a sinner,  and  make  me 
to  know  and  believe  in  Jesus  Christ;  for  I see  that  if  His  righteousness  had 
not  been,  or  I have  not  faith  in  that  righteousness,  I am  utterly  cast  away. 
Lord,  I have  heard  that  Thou  art  a merciful  God,  and  hast  ordained  that 
Thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  should  be  the  Saviour  of  the  world;  and,  moreover, 
that  Thou  art  willing  to  bestow  Him  upon  such  a poor  sinner  as  I am. 
And  I am  a sinner  indeed.  Lord,  take  therefore  this  opportunity,  and 


“He  said,  No,  for  I was  invited  to  come." 


HOPEFUL  NARRATES  HIS  CONVERSION. 


165 


magnify  Thy  grace  in  the  salvation  of  my  soul,  through  Thy  Son  Jesus 
Christ.  Amen.  (Exocl.  xxv.  22;  Lev.  xvi.  2;  Numb.  vii.  89;  Heb.  iv.  16.) 

Chris.  And  did  you  do  as  you  were  bidden? 

Hope.  Yes,  over,  and  over,  and  over. 

Chris.  And  did  the  Father  reveal  His  Son  to  you? 

Hope.  Not  at  the  first,  nor  second,  nor  third,  nor  fourth,  nor  fifth;  no, 
nor  at  the  sixth  time  neither. 

Chris.  What  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.  What!  why,  I could  not  tell  what  to  do. 

Chris.  Had  you  no  thoughts  of  leaving  off  praying? 

Hope.  Yes;  a hundred  times  twice  told. 

Chris.  And  what  was  the  reason  you  did  not? 

Hope.  I believed  that  that  was  true  which  had  been  told  me;  to  wit, 
that  without  the  righteousness  of  this  Christ,  all  the  world  could  not 
save  me;  and  therefore,  thought  I with  myself,  if  I leave  off  I die, 
and  I can  but  die  at  the  throne  of  grace.  And  withal,  this  came  into 
my  mind:  “Though  it  tarry,  wait  for  it;  because  it  will  surely  come,  it 
will  not  tarry.”  (Hab.  ii.  3.)  So  I continued  praying,  until  the  Father 
showed  me  His  Son. 

Chris.  And  how  was  He  revealed  unto  you? 

Hope.  I did  not  see  Him  with  my  bodily  eyes,  but  with  the  eyes  of  mine 
understanding  (Eph.  i.  18,  19),  and  thus  it  was:  One  day  I was 
very  sad,  I think  sadder  than  at  any  one  time  in  my  life;  and  Christ  is 
this  sadness  was  through  a fresh  sight  of  the  greatness  and  [^hfm 
vileness  of  my  sins.  And,  as  I was  then  looking  for  nothing  and  how. 
but  hell  and  the  everlasting  damnation  of  my  soul,  suddenly, 
as  I thought,  I saw  the  Lord  Jesus  look  down  from  heaven  upon  me,  and 
saying,  “Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved.”  (Acts 
xvi.  31.) 

But  I replied,  “Lord,  I am  a great,  a very  great  sinner.”  And  He 
answered,  “My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee.”  (II.  Cor.  xii.  9.)  Then  I said, 
“But,  Lord,  what  is  believing?”  And  then  I saw  from  that  saying,  “He 
that  cometh  to  me  shall  never  hunger,  and  he  that  believeth  on  me  shall 
never  thirst”  (John  vi.  35),  that  believing  and  coming  was  all  one;  and  that 
he  that  came,  that  is,  ran  out  in  his  heart  and  affections  after  salvation  by 
Christ,  he  indeed  believed  in  Christ.  Then  the  water  stood  in  mine  eyes, 
and  I asked  further,  “But,  Lord,  may  such  a great  sinner  as  I am  be  indeed 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


1 66 


accepted  of  Thee,  and  be  saved  by  Thee?”  and  I heard  Him  say,  “And  him 
that  cometh  to  me  I will  in  no  wise  cast  out.”  (John  vi.  37.)  Then  I said, 
“But  how.  Lord,  must  I consider  of  Thee  in  my  coming  to  Thee,  that  my 
faith  may  be  placed  aright  upon  Thee?”  Then  he  said,  “Christ  Jesus  came 
into  the  world  to  save  sinners.  (I.  Tim.  i.  15.)  He  is  the  end  of  the  law 
for  righteousness  to  every  one  that  believes.  (Rom.  x.  4.)  He  died  for 
our  sins,  and  rose  again  for  our  justification.  (Rom.  iv.  25.)  He  loved  us, 
and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  own  blood.  (Rev.  i.  5.)  He  is 
Mediator  between  God  and  us.  (I.  Tim.  ii.  5.)  He  ever  liveth  to  make 
intercession  for  us.”  (Heb.  vii.  25.)  From  all  which  I gathered  that  I must 
look  for  righteousness  in  His  person,  and  for  satisfaction  for  my  sins  by 
His  blood;  that  what  He  did  in  obedience  to  His  Father’s  law,  and  in  sub- 
mitting to  the  penalty  thereof,  was  not  for  Himself,  but  for  him  that  will 
accept  it  for  his  salvation,  and  be  thankful.  And  now  was  my  heart  full  of 
joy,  mine  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  mine  affections  running  over  with  love  to 
the  name,  people,  and  ways  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Chris.  This  was  a revelation  of  Christ  to  your  soul  indeed.  But  tell 
me  particularly  what  effect  this  had  upon  your  spirit. 

H ope.  It  made  me  see  that  all  the  world,  notwithstanding  all  the 
righteousness  thereof,  is  in  a state  of  condemnation.  It  made  me  see  that 
God  the  Father,  though  He  be  just,  can  justly  justify  the  coming  sinner.  It 
made  me  greatly  ashamed  of  the  vileness  of  my  former  life,  and  con- 
founded me  with  the  sense  of  my  own  ignorance;  for  there  never  came 
thought  into  my  heart  before  now,  that  showed  me  so  the  beauty  of  Jesus 
Christ.  It  made  me  love  a holy  life,  and  long  to  do  something  for  the 
honour  and  glory  of  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  Yea,  I thought  that  had 
I now  a thousand  gallons  of  blood  in  my  body,  I could  spill  it  all  for  the 
sake  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 

I saw  then  in  my  dream  that  Hopeful  looked  back,  and  saw  Ignorance, 
whom  they  had  left  behind,  coming  after.  “Look,”  said  he  to  Christian, 
“how  far  yonder  youngster  loitereth  behind.” 

Chris.  Ay,  ay,  I see  him:  he  careth  not  for  our  company. 

FIope.  But  I trow  it  would  not  have  hurt  him,  had  he  kept  pace  with  us 
hitherto. 

Chris.  That  is  true;  but  I warrant  you  he  thinks  otherwise. 

Hope.  That  I think  he  doth;  but,  however,  let  us  tarry  for  him.  So 
they  did. 


THEY  AGAIN  TALK  WITH  IGNORANCE . 


167 


Chris.  Then  Christian  said  to  him,  “Come  away,  man;  why  do  you  stay 
so  behind?” 

Ignor.  I take  my  pleasure  in  walking  alone,  even  more  a great  deal  than 
in  company,  unless  I like  it  the  better. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful  (but  softly),  “Did  I not  tell  you  he  cared 
not  for  our  company?  But,  however,”  said  he,  “come  up,  and  let  us  talk 
away  the  time  in  this  solitary  place.”  Then,  directing  his  speech  to  Igno- 
rance, he  said;  “Come,  how  do  you?  How  stands  it  between  God  and 
your  soul  now?” 

Ignor.  I hope  well ; for  I am  always 
full  of  good  motions,  that  come  into  my 
mind  to  comfort  me  as  I walk. 

Chris.  What  good  motions?  pray 
tell  us. 

Ignor.  Why,  I think  of  God  and 
heaven. 

Chris.  So  do  the  devils  and  damned 
souls. 

Ignor.  But  I think  of  them  and  de- 
sire them. 

Chris.  So  do  many  that  are  never 
like  to  come  there.  “The  soul  of  the 
sluggard  desireth,  and  hath  nothing.  ’ 

(Prov.  xiii.  4.) 

Ignor.  But  I think  of  them,  and 
leave  all  for  them. 

Chris.  That  I doubt,  for  leaving  of 
all  is  a very  hard  matter;  yea,  a harder 
matter  than  many  are  aware  of.  But 
why,  or  by  what,  art  thou  persuaded  that  thou  hast  left  all  for  God  and 
heaven  ? 

Ignor.  My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chris.  The  Wise  Man  says,  “He  that  trusteth  in  his  own  heart  is  a 
fool.”  (Prov.  xxviii.  26.) 

Ignor.  This  is  spoken  of  an  evil  heart;  but  mine  is  a good  one. 

Chris.  But  how  dost  thou  prove  that? 

Ignor.  It  comforts  me  in  the  hopes  of  heaven. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


1 68 


Chris.  That  may  be  through  its  deceitfulness;  for  a man’s  heart  may 
minister  comfort  to  him  in  the  hopes  of  that  thing  for  which  he  has  yet  no 
ground  to  hope. 

Ignor.  But  my  heart  and  life  agree  together;  and  therefore  my  hope  is 
well  grounded. 

Chris.  Who  told  thee  that  thy  heart  and  life  agree  together? 

Ignor.  My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chris.  Ask  my  fellow  if  I be  a thief!  Thy  heart  tells  thee  so ! Except 
the  Word  of  God  beareth  witness  in  this  matter,  other  testimony  is  of  no 
value. 

Ignor.  But  is  it  not  a good  heart  that  hath  good  thoughts?  and  is  not 
that  a good  life  that'is  according  to  God's  commandments? 

Chris.  Yes,  that  is  a good  heart  that  hath  good  thoughts,  and  that  is  a 
good  life  that  is  according  to  God’s  commandments;  but  it  is  one  thing, 
indeed,  to  have  these,  and  another  thing  only  to  think  so. 

Ignor.  Pray,  what  count  you  good  thoughts,  and  a life  according  to 
God’s  commandments? 

Chris.  There  are  good  thoughts  of  divers  kinds:  some  respecting  our- 
selves, some  God,  some  Christ,  and  some  other  things. 

Ignor.  What  be  good  thoughts  respecting  ourselves  ? 

Chris.  Such  as  agree  with  the  Word  of  God. 

Ignor.  When  do  our  thoughts  of  ourselves  agree  with  the  Word  of 
God? 

Chris.  When  we  pass  the  same  judgment  upon  ourselves  which  the 
Word  passes.  To  explain  myself;  the  Word  of  God  saith  of  persons  in  a 
natural  condition,  “There  is  none  righteous,  there  is  none  that  doeth  good.” 
It  saith  also,  that  “every  imagination  of  the  heart  of  man  is  only  evil,  and 
that  continually.”  (Rom.  iii.  io — 12;  Gen.  vi.  5.)  And  again,  “The 
imagination  of  man’s  heart  is  evil  from  his  youth.”  (Gen.  viii.  21.)  Now, 
then,  when  we  think  thus  of  ourselves,  having  sense  thereof,  then  are  our 
thoughts  good  ones,  because  according  to  the  Word  of  God. 

Ignor.  I will  never  believe  that  my  heart  is  thus  bad. 

Chris.  Therefore  thou  never  hadst  one  good  thought  concerning  thyself 
in  thy  life.  But  let  me  go  on.  As  the  Word  passeth  judgment  upon  our 
heart,  so  it  passeth  a judgment  upon  our  ways;  and  when  our  thoughts  of 
our  hearts  and  ways  agree  with  the  judgment  which  the  Word  giveth  of 
both,  then  are  both  good  because  agreeing  thereto. 


THE  FAITH  OF  IGNORANCE. 


169 


Ignor.  Make  out  your  meaning. 

Chris.  Why,  the  Word  of  God  saith  that  man’s  ways  are  crooked  ways, 
not  good,  but  perverse;  it  saith  they  are  naturally  out  of  the  good  way,  that 
they  have  not  known  it.  (Psa.  cxxv.  5;  Prov.  ii.  15;  Rom.  iii.  12.)  Now, 
when  a man  thus  thinketh  of  his  ways,  I say,  when  he  doth  sensibly,  and 
with  heart-humiliation,  thus  think,  then  hath  he  good  thoughts  of  his  own 
ways,  because  his  thoughts  now  agree  with  the  judgment  of  the  Word  of 
God. 

Ignor.  What  are  good  thoughts  concerning  God  ? 

Chris.  Even  as  I have  said  concerning  ourselves,  when  our  thoughts  of 
God  do  agree  with  what  the  Word  saith  of  Him,  and  that  is,  when  we 
think  of  His  being  and  attributes  as  the  Word  hath  taught;  of  which  I 
cannot  now  discourse  at  large;  but  to  speak  of  Him  with  reference  to  us: 
then  have  we  right  thoughts  of  God,  when  we  think  that  He  knows  us 
better  than  we  know  ourselves,  and  can  see  sin  in  us  when  and  where  we 
can  see  none  in  ourselves;  when  we  think  He  knows  our  inmost  thoughts, 
and  that  our  heart,  with  all  its  depths,  is  always  open  unto  His  eyes;  also 
when  we  think  that  all  our  righteousness  stinks  in  His  nostrils,  and  that 
therefore  He  cannot  abide  to  see  us  stand  before  Him  in  any  confidence, 
even  in  all  our  best  performances. 

Ignor.  Do  you  think  that  I am  such  a fool  as  to  think  God  can  see  no 
farther  than  I ? or  that  I would  come  to  God  in  the  best  * of  my  per- 
formances ?' 

Chris.  Why,  how  dost  thou  think  in  this  matter? 

Ignor.  Why,  to  be  short,  I think  I must  believe  in  Christ  for  justifi- 
cation. 

Chris.  How!  think  thou  must  believe  in  Christ,  when  thou  seest  not  thy 
need  of  Him!  Thou  neither  seest  thy  original  nor  actual  infirmities;  but 
hast  such  an  opinion  of  thyself,  and  of  what  thou  dost,  as  plainly  renders 
thee  to  be  one  that  did  never  see  a necessity  of  Christ’s  personal  righteous- 
ness to  justify  thee  before  God.  How,  then,  dost  thou  say,  “I  believe  in 
Christ”  ? 

Ignor.  I believe  well  enough,  for  all  that. 

Chris.  How  dost  thou  believe? 

Ignor.  I believe  that  Christ  died  for  sinners;  and  that  I shall  be  justified 
before  God  from  the  curse,  through  His  gracious  acceptance  of  my 
obedience  to  His  law.  Or  thus:  Christ  makes  my  duties  that  are  religious 


170 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


acceptable  to  His  Father,  by  virtue  of  His  merits,  and  so  shall  I be 
justified. 

Chris.  Let  me  give  an  answer  to  this  confession  of  thy  faith. 

1.  Thou  believest  with  a fantastical  faith;  for  this  faith  is  nowhere 
described  in  the  Word. 

2.  Thou  believest  with  a false  faith,  because  it  taketh  justification  from 
the  personal  righteousness  of  Christ,  and  applies  it  to  thy  own. 

3.  This  faith  maketh  not  Christ  a justifier  of  thy  person,  but  of  thy 
actions,  and  of  thy  person  for  thy  actions’  sake,  which  is  false. 

4.  Therefore  this  faith  is  deceitful,  even  such  as  will  leave  thee  under 
wrath  in  the  day  of  God  Almighty;  for  true  justifying  faith  puts  the  soul,  as 
sensible  of  its  lost  condition  by  the  law,  upon  flying  for  refuge  unto  Christ’s 
righteousness  (which  righteousness  of  His  is  not  an  act  of  grace,  by  which 
He  maketh,  for  justification,  thy  obedience  accepted  with  God,  but  His 
personal  obedience  to  the  law,  in  doing  and  suffering  for  us  what  that 
required  at  our  hands);  this  righteousness,  I say,  true  faith  accepteth;  under 
the  skirt  of  which  the  soul  being  shrouded,  and  by  it  presented  as  spotless 
before  God,  it  is  accepted,  and  acquit  from  condemnation. 

Ignor.  What!  would  you  have  us  trust  to  what  Christ  in  His  own  person 
has  done  without  us  ? This  conceit  would  loosen  the  reins  of  our  lusts, 
and  tolerate  us  to  live  as  we  list;  for  what  matter  how  we  live,  if  we 
may  be  justified  by  Christ’s  personal  righteousness  from  all  when  we 
believe  it? 

Chris.  Ignorance  is  thy  name, and  as  thy  name  is,  so  art  thou;  even  this 
thy  answer  demonstrateth  what  I say.  Ignorant  thou  art  of  what  justifying 
righteousness  is,  and  as  ignorant  how  to  secure  thy  soul,  through  the  faith 
of  it,  from  the  heavy  wrath  of  God.  Yea,  thou  also  art  ignorant  of  the 
true  effects  of  saving  faith  in  this  righteousness  of  Christ,  which  is,  to  bow 
and  win  over  the  heart  to  God  in  Christ,  to  love  His  name,  His  Word,  ways, 
and  people,  and  not  as  thou  ignorantly  imaginest. 

Hope.  Ask  him  if  ever  he  had  Christ  revealed  to  him  from  heaven. 

Ignor.  What!  you  are  a man  for  revelations!  I believe  that  what  both 
you  and  all  the  rest  of  you  say  about  that  matter  is  but  the  fruit  of  dis- 
tracted brains. 

Hope.  Why,  man!  Christ  is  so  hid  in  God  from  the  natural  appre- 
hensions of  the  flesh,  that  He  cannot  by  any  men  be  savingly  known, 
unless  God  the  Father  reveals  Him  to  them. 


IGNORANCE  FALLS  BEHIND. 


171 


Ignor.  That  is  your  faith,  but  not  mine;  yet  mine,  I doubt  not,  is  as 
good  as  yours,  though  I have  not  in  my  head  so  many  whimsies  as  you. 

Chris.  Give  me  leave  to  put  in  a word.  You  ought  not  so  slightly  to 
speak  of  this  matter;  for  this  I will  boldly  affirm,  even  as  my  good  com- 
panion hath  done,  that  no  man  can  know  Jesus  Christ  but  by  the  revelation 
of  the  Father;  yea,  and  faith  too,  by  which  the  soul  layeth  hold  upon  Christ, 
if  it  be  right,  must  be  wrought  by  the  exceeding  greatness  of  His  mighty 
power  (Matt.  xi.  27;  I.  Cor.  xii.  3;  Eph.  i.  17 — 19);  the  working  of  which 
faith,  I perceive,  poor  Ignorance,  thou  art  ignorant  of.  Be  awakened,  then; 
see  thine  own  wretchedness,  and  fly  to  the  Lord  Jesus;  and,  by  His 
righteousness,  which  is  the  righteousness  of  God  (for  He  Himself  is  God), 
thou  shalt  be  delivered  from  condemnation. 

Ignor.  You  go  so  fast,  I cannot  keep  pace  with  you.  Do  you  go  on 
before:  I must  stay  awhile  behind. 

Then  they  said: 

“Weil,  Ignorance,  wilt  thou  yet  foolish  be, 

To  slight  good  counsel,  ten  times  given  thee? 

And  if  thou  yet  refuse  it,  thou  shalt  know, 

Ere  long,  the  evil  of  thy  doing  so. 

Remember,  man,  in  time;  stoop,  do  not  fear; 

Good  counsel,  taken  well,  saves;  therefore  hear: 

But,  if  thou  yet  shalt  slight  it,  thou  wilt  be 
The  loser,  Ignorance,  I ’ll  warrant  thee.” 


Then  Christian  addressed  himself  thus  to  his  fellow: 

Chris.  Well,  come,  my  good  Hopeful;  I perceive  that  thou  and  I must 
walk  by  ourselves  again. 

So  I saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  apace  before,  and  Ignorance  he 
came  hobbling  after.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  companion,  “It  pities  me 
much  for  this  poor  man:  it  will  certainly  go  ill  with  him  at  last.” 

Hope.  Alas ! there  are  abundance  in  our  town  in  his  condition,  whole 
families,  yea,  whole  streets,  and  that  of  pilgrims,  too;  and  if  there  be  so 
many  in  our  parts,  how  many,  think  you,  must  there  be  in  the  place  where 
he  was  born  ? 

Chris.  Indeed,  the  Word  saith,  “He  hath  blinded  their  eyes,  lest  they 
should  see,”  etc.  But  now  we  are  by  ourselves,  what  do  you  think  of  such 
men?  Have  they  at  no  time,  think  you,  convictions  of  sin,  and  so,  conse- 
quently, fears  that  their  state  is  dangerous  ? 


172 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Hope.  Nay,  do  you  answer  that  question  yourself,  for  you  are  the  elder 


man. 


Chris.  Then,  I say,  sometimes,  as  I think,  they  may;  but  they  being 
naturally  ignorant,  understand  not  that  sueh  convictions  tend  to  their  good ; 
and  therefore  they  do  desperately  seek  to  stifle  them,  and  presumptuously 
continue  to  flatter  themselves  in  the  way  of  their  own  hearts. 

Hope.  I do  believe,  as  you  say,  that  fear  tends  much  to 
men’s  good,  and  to  make  them  right  at  their  beginning  to  go 
on  pilgrimage. 

Chris.  Without  all  doubt  it  doth,  if  it  be  right;  for  so  says  the  Word: 
“The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.”  (Job.  xxviii.  28;  Psa. 


The  good 
use  of  fear, 


cxi.  10;  Prov.  i.  7;  ix.  10.) 

Hope.  How  will  you  describe  right  fear? 

Chris.  True  or  right  fear  is  discovered  by  three  things: 

1.  By  its  rise:  it  is  caused  by  saving  convictions  for  sin. 

2.  It  driveth  the  soul  to  lay  fast  hold  of  Christ  for  salvation. 

3.  It  begetteth  and  continueth  in  the  soul  a great  reverence  of  God, 
His  Word  and  ways;  keeping  it  tender,  and  making  it  afraid  to  turn 
from  them,  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left,  to  anything  that  may  dis- 
honour God,  break  its  peace,  grieve  the  Spirit,  or  cause  the  enemy  to  speak 
reproachfully. 

Hope.  Well  said;  I believe  you  have  said  the  truth.  Are  we  now 
almost  got  past  the  Enchanted  Ground  ? 

Chris.  Why,  art  thou  weary  of  this  discourse? 

Hope.  No,  verily;  but  that  I would  know  where  we  are. 

Chris.  We  have  not  now  above  two  miles  farther  to  go  thereon.  But 
let  us  return  to  our  matter.  Now,  the  ignorant  know  not  that  such  con- 
victions as  tend  to  put  them  in  fear  are  for  their  good,  and  therefore  they 
seek  to  stifle  them. 

Hope.  How  do  they  seek  to  stifle  them? 

Chris,  i.  They  think  that  those  fears  are  wrought  by  the  devil  (though 
indeed  they  are  wrought  of  God) ; and,  thinking  so,  they  resist  them,  as 
things  that  directly  tend  to  their  overthrow.  2.  They  also  think  that  these 
fears  tend  to  the  spoiling  of  their  faith;  when,  alas  for  them,  poor  men  that 
they  are!  they  have  none  at  all;  and  therefore  they  harden  their  hearts 
against  them.  3.  They  presume  they  ought  not  to  fear,  and  therefore,  in 
despite  of  them,  wax  presumptuously  confident.  4.  They  see  that  those 


THE  REASON  OF  BACKSLIDING. 


173 


fears  tend  to  take  away  from  them  their  pitiful  old  self-holiness,  and  there- 
fore they  resist  them  with  all  their  might. 

Hope.  I know  something  of  this  myself;  for,  before  I knew  myself,  it 
was  so  with  me. 

Chris.  Well,  we  will  leave  at  this  time  our  neighbour  Ignorance  by 
himself,  and  fall  upon  another  profitable  question. 

Hope.  With  all  my  heart;  but  you  shall  still  begin. 

Chris.  Well,  then,  did  you  not  know,  about  ten  years  ago,  one  Tem- 
porary in  your  parts,  who  was  a forward  man  in  religion  then  ? 

Hope.  Know  him!  yes;  he  dwelt  in  Graceless,  a town  about  two  miles 
off  of  Honesty,  and  he  dwelt  next  door  to  one  Turnback. 

Chris.  Right,  he  dwelt  under  the  same  roof  with  him.  Well,  that  man 
was  much  awakened  once:  I believe  that  then  he  had  some  sight  of  his 
sins,  and  of  the  wages  that  were  due  thereto. 

Hope.  I am  of  your  mind;  for  (my  house  not  being  above  three  miles 
from  him)  he  would  ofttimes  come  to  me,  and  that  with  many  tears.  Truly, 
I pitied  the  man,  and  was  not  altogether  without  hope  of  him ; but  one  may 
see,  it  is  not  every  one  that  cries  “ Lord ! Lord ! ” 

Chris.  He  told  me  once  that  he  was  resolved  to  go  on  pilgrimage  as  we 
do  now;  but  all  of  a sudden  he  grew  acquainted  with  one  Save-self,  and 
then  he  became  a stranger  to  me. 

Hope.  Now,  since  we  are  talking  about  him,  let  us  a little  inquire  into 
the  reason  of  the  sudden  backsliding  of  him  and  such  others. 

Chris.  It  may  be  very  profitable;  but  do  you  begin. 

Hope.  Well,  then,  there  are,  in  my  judgment,  four  reasons  for  it: 

1.  Though  the  consciences  of  such  men  are  awakened,  yet  their  minds 
are  not  changed;  therefore,  when  the  power  of  guilt  weareth  away,  that 
which  provoked  them  to  be  religious  ceaseth,  wherefore  they  naturally  turn 
to  their  old  course  again ; even  as  we  see  the  dog  that  is  sick  of  what  he 
hath  eaten,  so  long  as  his  sickness  prevails,  he  vomits  and  casts  up  all;  not 
that  he  doth  this  of  a free  mind  (if  we  may  say  a dog  has  a mind),  but 
because  it  troubleth  his  stomach:  but  now,  when  his  sickness  is  over,  and 
so  his  stomach  is  eased,  his  desire  not  being  all  alienated  from  his  vomit, 
he  turns  him  about,  and  licks  up  all;  and  so  it  is  true  which  is  written, 
“The  dog  is  turned  to  his  own  vomit  again.”  (II.  Pet.  ii.  22.)  Thus,  I say, 
being  hot  for  heaven,  by  virtue  only  of  the  sense  and  fear  of  the  torments 
of  hell;  as  their  sense  of  hell  and  the  fears  of  damnation  chill  and  cool,  so 


1 74 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


their  desires  for  heaven  and  salvation  cool  also.  So  then  it  comes  to  pass, 
that,  when  their  guilt  and  fear  are  gone,  their  desires  for  heaven  and  happi- 
ness die,  and  they  return  to  their  course  again. 

2.  Another  reason  is,  they  have  slavish  fears  that  do  overmaster  them : 
I speak  now  of  the  fears  that  they  have  of  men;  for  “the  fear  of  man 
bringeth  a snare.”  (Prov.  xxix.  25.)  So  then,  though  they  seem  to  be  hot 
for  heaven  so  long  as  the  flames  of  hell  are  about  their  ears,  yet,  when  that 
terror  is  a little  over,  they  betake  themselves  to  second  thoughts;  namely, 
that  it  is  good  to  be  wise,  and  not  to  run  (for  they  know  not  what)  the 
hazard  of  losing  all,  or,  at  least,  of  bringing  themselves  into  unavoidable 
and  unnecessary  troubles;  and  so  they  fall  in  with  the  world  again. 

3.  The  shame  that  attends  religion  lies  also  as  a block  in  their  way : they 
are  proud  and  haughty,  and  religion  in  their  eye  is  low  and  contemptible; 
therefore,  when  they  have  lost  their  sense  of  hell  and  the  wrath  to  come, 
they  return  again  to  their  former  course. 

4.  Guilt,  and  to  meditate  terror,  are  grievous  to  them.  They  like  not  to 
see  their  misery  before  they  come  into  it;  though,  perhaps,  the  sight  of  it 
first,  if  they  loved  not  that  sight,  might  make  them  fly  whither  the  righteous 
fly  and  are  safe.  But,  because  they  do,  as  I hinted  before,  even  shun  the 
thoughts  of  guilt  and  terror,  therefore,  when  once  they  are  rid  of  their 
awakenings  about  the  terrors  and  wrath  of  God,  they  harden  their  hearts 
gladly,  and  choose  such  ways  as  will  harden  them  more  and  more. 

Chris.  You  are  pretty  near  the  business;  for  the  bottom  of  all  is  for 
want  of  a change  in  their  mind  and  will.  And  therefore  they  are  but  like 
the  felon  that  standeth  before  the  judge:  he  quakes  and  trembles,  and  seems 
to  repent  most  heartily;  but  the  bottom  of  all  is  the  fear  of  the  halter;  not 
of  any  detestation  of  the  offence,  as  is  evident;  because,  let  but  this  man 
have  his  liberty,  and  he  will  be  a thief,  and  so  a rogue  still;  whereas,  if  his 
mind  was  changed,  he  would  be  otherwise. 

Hope.  Now  I have  showed  you  the  reasons  of  their  going  back,  do  you 
show  me  the  manner  thereof. 

Chris.  So  I will,  willingly. 

1.  They  draw  off  their  thoughts,  all  that  they  may,  from  the  remem- 
brance of  God,  death,  and  judgment  to  come. 

2.  Then  they  cast  off  by  degrees  private  duties,  as  closet  prayer,  curbing 
their  lusts,  watching,  sorrow  for  sin,  and  the  like. 

3.  Then  they  shun  the  company  of  lively  and  warm  Christians. 


A NEAR  VIEW  OF  THE  CITY. 


175 


4.  After  that  they  grow  cold  to  public  duty,  as  hearing,  reading,  godly 
conference,  and  the  like. 

5.  Then  they  begin  to  pick  holes,  as  we  say,  in  the  coats  of  some  of  the 
godly,  and  that  devilishly,  that  they  may  have  a seeming  colour  to  throw 
religion  (for  the  sake  of  some  infirmity  they  have  espied  in  them)  behind 
their  backs. 

6.  Then  they  begin  to  adhere  to,  and  associate  themselves  with,  carnal, 
loose,  and  wanton  men. 

7.  Then  they  give  way  to  carnal  and  wanton  discourses  in  secret;  and 
glad  are  they  if  they  can  see  such  things  in  any  that  are  counted  honest, 
that  they  may  the  more  boldly  do  it  through  their  example. 

8.  After  this,  they  begin  to  play  with  little  sins  openly. 

9.  And  then,  being  hardened,  they  show  themselves  as  they  are.  Thus, 
being  launched  again  into  the  gulf  of  misery,  unless  a miracle  of  grace 
prevent  it,  they  everlastingly  perish  in  their  own  deceivings. 

Now  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  by  this  time  the  pilgrims  were  got  over  the 
Enchanted  Ground,  and  entering  into  the  country  of  Beulah  (Isa.  lxii.  4; 
Cant.  ii.  10 — 12),  whose  air  was  very  sweet  and  pleasant:  the  way  lying 
directly  through  it,  they  solaced  themselves  there  for  a season.  Yea,  here 
they  heard  continually  the  singing  of  birds,  and  saw  every  day  the  flowers 
appear  on  the  earth,  and  heard  the  voice  of  the  turtle  in  the  land.  In  this 
country  the  sun  shineth  night  and  day;  wherefore  this  was  beyond  the 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  also  out  of  the  reach  of  Giant 
Despair;  neither  could  they  from  this  place  so  much  as  see  Doubting 
Castle.  Here  they  were  within  sight  of  the  City  they  were 
going  to;  also  here  met  them  some  of  the  inhabitants  thereof;  Angels, 
for  in  this  land  the  Shining  Ones  commonly  walked,  because 
it  was  upon  the  borders  of  heaven.  In  this  land  also  the  contract  between 
the  bride  and  the  bridegroom  was  renewed;  yea,  here,  “as  the  bridegroom 
rejoiceth  over  his  bride  so  did  their  God  rejoice  over  them.”  Here  they 
had  no  want  of  corn  and  wine;  for  in  this  place  they  met  with  abundance 
of  what  they  had  sought  for  in  all  their  pilgrimage.  Here  they  heard 
voices  from  out  of  the  City,  loud  voices,  saying,  “Say  ye  to  the  daughter  of 
Zion,  Behold,  thy  salvation  cometh ! Behold,  His  reward  is  with  Him!” 
Here  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  called  them  “The  holy  people,  and 
redeemed  of  the  Lord,”  “sought  out,”  etc. 

Now,  as  they  walked  in  this  land,  they  had  more  rejoicing  than  in  parts 


176 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


more  remote  from  the  kingdom  to  which  they  were  bound;  and  drawing 
near  to  the  City,  they  had  yet  a more  perfect  view  thereof.  It  was  budded 
of  pearls  and  precious  stones,  also  the  streets  thereof  were  paved  with 
gold;  so  that  by  reason  of  the  natural  glory  of  the  City,  and  the  reflection 
of  the  sunbeams  upon  it,  Christian  with  desire  fell  sick;  Hopeful  also  had 
a fit  or  two  of  the  same  disease:  wherefore  here  they  lay  by  it  awhile, 
crying  out  because  of  their  pangs,  “If  you  .see  my  Beloved,  tell  Him  that 
I am  sick  of  love.” 

But  being  a little  strengthened,  and  better  able  to  bear  their  sickness, 
they  walked  on  their  way,  and  came  yet  nearer  and  nearer,  where  were 
orchards,  vineyards,  and  gardens,  and  their  gates  opened  into  the  highway. 
Now,  as  they  came  up  to  these  places,  behold,  the  gardener  stood  in  the 
way;  to  whom  the  pilgrims  said,  “Whose  goodly  vineyards  and  gardens 
are  these?”  He  answered,  “They  are  the  King’s,  and  are  planted  here  for 
His  own  delight,  and  also  for  the  solace  of  pilgrims.”  So  the  gardener 
had  them  into  the  vineyards,  and  bid  them  refresh  themselves  with  the 
dainties.  (Deut.  xxiii.  24.)  He  also  showed  them  there  the  King’s  walks, 
and  the  arbours  where  He  delighted  to  be;  and  here  they  tarried  and  slept. 

Now  I beheld  in  my  dream,  that  they  talked  more  in  their  sleep  at  this 
time  than  ever  they  did  in  all  their  journey;  and  being  in  a muse  there- 
about, the  gardener  said  even  to  me,  “ Wherefore  musest  thou  at  the 
matter?  It  is  the  nature  of  the  fruit  of  the  grapes  of  these  vineyards  to  go 
down  so  sweetly  as  to  cause  the  lips  of  them  that  are  asleep  to  speak.” 
(Deut.  xxxiii.  24.) 

So  I saw,  when  they  awoke  they  addressed  themselves  to  go  up  to  the 
City.  But,  as  I said,  the  reflection  of  the  sun  upon  the  City  (for  the  City 
was  pure  gold)  (Rev.  xxi.  18)  was  so  extremely  glorious,  that  they  could 
not,  as  yet,  with  open  face  behold  it,  but  through  an  instrument  made  for 
that  purpose.  (II.  Cor.  iii.  18.)  So  I saw  that,  as  they  went  on,  there  met 
them  two  men  in  raiment  that  shone  like  gold,  also  their  faces  shone  as 
the  light. 

These  men  asked  the  pilgrims  whence  they  came;  and  they  told  them. 
They  also  asked  them  where  they  had  lodged,  what  difficulties  and  dangers, 
what  comforts  and  pleasures  they  had  met  in  the  way;  and  they  told  them. 
Then  said  the  men  that  met  them,  “You  have  but  two  difficulties  more  to 
meet  with,  and  then  you  are  in  the  City.” 

Christian  then,  and  his  companion,  asked  the  men  to  go  along  with 


THEY  ENTER  THE  RIVER. 


177 


them;  so  they  told  them  that  they  would.  “But,”  said  they,  “you  must 
obtain  it  by  your  own  faith.”  So  I saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on 
together  till  they  came  in  sight  of  the  gate. 

Now  I further  saw,  that  betwixt  them  and  the  gate  was  a river;  but  there 
was  no  bridge  to  go  over,  and  the  river  was  very  deep.  At  the 
sight,  therefore,  of  this  river,  the  pilgrims  were  much  stunned;  Death, 
but  the  men  that  went  with  them  said,  “You  must  go  through, 
or  you  cannot  come  at  the  gate.” 

The  pilgrims  then  began  to  inquire  if  there  was  no  other  way  to  the 
gate;  to  which  they  answered,  “Yes;  but  there  hath  not  any  save  two, 
to  wit,  Enoch  and  Elijah,  been  permitted  to  tread  that  path 
since  the  foundation  of  the  world,  nor  shall  until  the  last  Death  is  not 
trumpet  shall  sound.”  The  pilgrims  then,  especially  Christian,  J^ture16  to 
began  to  despond  in  his  mind,  and  looked  this  way  and  that;  though  by  it 
but  no  way  could  be  found  by  them  by  which  they  might  of"  this8 world 
escape  the  river.  Then  they  asked  the  men  if  the  waters  were  into  glory, 
all  of  a depth.  They  said,  “ No ; ” yet  they  could  not  help  them 
in  that  case;  “for,”  said  they,  “you  shall  find  it  deeper  or  shallower  as  you 
believe  in  the  King  of  the  place.” 

They  then  addressed  themselves  to  the  water;  and,  entering,  Christian 
began  to  sink,  and  crying  out  to  his  good  friend  Hopeful,  he  said,  “I  sink 
in  deep  waters;  the  billows  go  over  my  head;  all  His  waves  go  over  me. 
Selah.” 

Then  said  the  other,  “Be  of  good  cheer,  my  brother;  I feel  the  bottom, 
and  it  is  good.”  Then  said  Christian,  “Ah!  my  friend,  the  sorrows  of  death 
have  compassed  me  about;  I shall  not  see  the  land  that  flows  with  milk  and 
honey.”  And,  with  that,  a great  darkness  and  horror  fell  upon  Christian, 
so  that  he  could  not  see  before  him.  Also  here  he  in  a great  measure  lost 
his  senses,  so  that  he  could  neither  remember  nor  orderly  talk  of  any  of 
those  sweet  refreshments  that  he  had  met  with  in  the  way  of  his  pilgrimage. 
But  all  the  words  that  he  spake  still  tended  to  discover  that  he  had  horror 
of  mind,  and  heart-fears  that  he  should  die  in  that  river,  and  never  obtain 
entrance  in  at  the  gate.  Here  also,  as  they  that  stood  by  perceived,  he  was 
much  in  the  troublesome  thoughts  of  the  sins  that  he  had  committed,  both 
since  and  before  he  began  to  be  a pilgrim.  It  was  also  observed  that  he 
was  troubled  with  apparitions  of  hobgoblins  and  evil  spirits;  for  ever  and 
anon  he  would  intimate  so  much  by  wot  is. 


178 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Hopeful,  therefore,  here  had  much  ado  to  keep  his  brother’s  head  above 
water;  yea,  sometimes  he  would  be  quite  gone  down,  and  then,  ere  a while, 
he  would  rise  up  again  half  dead.  Hopeful  would  also  endeavour  to 
comfort  him,  saying,  “ Brother,  I see  the  gate,  and  men  standing  by  to 
receive  us;”  but  Christian  would  answer,  “It  is  you,  it  is  you  they  wait  for: 
you  have  been  hopeful  ever  since  I knew  you.”  “And  so  have  you,”  said 
he  to  Christian.  “Ah,  brother,”  said  he,  “surely,  if  I were  right,  He  would 
now  arise  to  help  me;  but  for  my  sins  He  hath  brought  me  into  this  snare, 

and  hath  left  me.”  Then  said  Hopeful, 
“My  brother,  you  have  quite  forgot  the 
text  where  it  is  said  of  the  wicked, 
‘There  are  no  bands  in  their  death,  but 
their  strength  is  firm;  they  are  not 
troubled  as  other  men,  neither  are  they 
plagued  like  other  men.’  (Psa.  lxxiii. 
4,  5.)  These  troubles  and  distresses 
that  you  go  through  in  these  waters  are 
no  sign  that  God  hath  forsaken  you ; but 
are  sent  to  try  you,  whether  you  will 
call  to  mind  that  which  hitherto  you 
have  received  of  His  goodness,  and  live 
upon  Him  in  your  distresses.” 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream  that  Chris- 
tian was  in  a muse  awhile.  To  whom 
also  Hopeful  added  these 
Christian  words,  “Be  of  good  cheer, 

fromhUfears  JeSUS  Christ  makcth  tllee 
in  death.  whole.”  And,  with  that, 

Christian  brake  out  with  a 

loud  voice,  “Oh,  I see  Him  again;  and  He  tells  me,  ‘When  thou  passest 

through  the  waters,  I will  be  with  thee;  and  through  the  rivers,  they  shall 

not  overflow  thee.”  (Isa.  xliii.  2.)  Then  they  both  took  courage;  and  the 

enemy  was,  after  that,  as  still  as  a stone,  until  they  were  gone  over. 

Christian,  therefore,  presently  found  ground  to  stand  upon;  and  so  it 

followed  that  the  rest  of  the  river  was  but  shallow.  Thus  they  got 

over. 

Now,  upon  the  bank  of  the  river,  on  the  other  side,  they  saw  the  two 


“Christian  brake  out  with  a loud  voice,  ‘Oh!  I see  him  again.’"' 


THE  CELESTIAL  CITY. 


1 8 1 


Shining  Men  again,  who  there  waited  for  them.  Wherefore,  The  angels 
being  come  out  of  the  river,  they  saluted  them,  saying,  “We  then^as^oon 
are  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  for  those  that  shall  as  they  are 
be  heirs  of  salvation."  Thus  they  went  along  towards  the  fhffvvorld!  °f 
gate.  Now,  you  must  note  that  the  City  stood  upon  a mighty 
hill;  but  the  pilgrims  went  up  that  hill  with  ease,  because  they  They^ave 
had  these  two  men  to  lead  them  up  by  the  arms ; also  they  had  mortality, 
left  their  mortal  garments  behind  them  in  the  river;  for  though 
they  went  in  with  them,  they  came  out  without  them.  They  therefore  went 
up  here  with  much  agility  and  speed,  though  the  foundation  upon  which 
the  City  was  framed  was  higher  than  the  clouds.  They  therefore  went  up 
through  the  regions  of  the  air,  sweetly  talking  as  they  went,  being  com- 
forted because  they  had  safely  got  over  the  river,  and  had  such  glorious 
companions  to  attend  them. 

The  talk  they  had  with  the  Shining  Ones  was  about  the  glory  of  the 
place;  who  told  them  that  the  beauty  and  glory  of  it  were  inexpressible. 
“There,”  said  they,  “is  the  Mount  Sion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the 
innumerable  company  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect. 
(Heb.  xii.  22 — 24.)  You  are  going  now,”  said  they,  “to  the  Paradise  of 
God,  wherein  you  shall  see  the  tree  of  life,  and  eat  of  the  never-fading 
fruits  thereof;  and  when  you  come  there,  you  shall  have  white  robes  given 
you,  and  your  walk  and  talk  shall  be  every  day  with  the  King,  even  all  the 
days  of  eternity.  (Rev.  ii.  7;  iii.  4,  5;  xxii.  5.)  There  you  shall  not  see 
again  such  things  as  you  saw  when  you  were  in  the  lower  region  upon  the 
earth;  to  wit,  sorrow,  sickness,  affliction,  and  death;  ‘for  the  former  things 
are  passed  away.’  (Isa.  lxv.  16,  17.)  You  are  going  now  to  Abraham,  to 
Isaac,  and  to  Jacob,  and  to  the  prophets,  men  that  God  hath  taken  away 
from  the  evil  to  come,  and  that  are  now  resting  upon  their  beds,  each  one 
walking  in  his  righteousness.”  The  men  then  asked,  “What  must  we  do  in 
the  holy  place?”  To  whom  it  was  answered,  “You  must  there  receive  the 
comfort  of  all  your  toil,  and  have  joy  for  all  your  sorrow;  you  must  reap 
what  you  have  sown,  even  the  fruit  of  all  your  prayers,  and  tears,  and 
sufferings  for  the  King  by  the  way.  (Gal.  vi.  7,  8.)  In  that  place  you  must 
wear  crowns  of  gold,  and  enjoy  the  perpetual  sight  and  visions  of  the  Holy 
One;  for  there  you  shall  see  Him  as  He  is.  (I.  John  iii.  2.)  There  also 
you  shall  serve  Him  continually  with  praise,  with  shouting  and  thanks- 
giving, whom  you  desired  to  serve  in  the  world,  though  with  much 


i82 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


difficulty,  because  of  the  infirmity  of  your  flesh.  There  your  eyes  shall  be 
delighted  with  seeing  and  your  ears  with  hearing  the  pleasant  voice  of  the 
Mighty  One.  There  you  shall  enjoy  your  friends  again  that  are  gone 
thither  before  you;  and  there  you  shall  with  joy  receive  even  every  one  that 
follows  into  the  holy  place  after  you.  There  also  you  shall  be  clothed  with 
glory  and  majesty,  and  put  into  an  equipage  fit  to  ride  out  with  the  King 
of  Glory.  When  He  shall  come  with  sound  of  trumpet  in  the  clouds,  as 
upon  the  wings  of  the  wind,  you  shall  come  with  Him;  and  when  He  shall 

sit  upon  the  throne  of  judgment,  you 
shall  sit  by  Him;  yea,  and  when  He 
shall  pass  sentence  upon  all  the  workers 
of  iniquity,  let  them  be  angels  or  men, 
you  also  shall  have  a voice  in  that 
judgment,  because  they  were  His  and 
your  enemies.  Also,  when  He  shall 
again  return  to  the  City,  you  shall 
go  too,  with  sound  of  trumpet,  and 
be  ever  with  Him.”  (I.  Thes.  iv.  13 — 
17;  Jude  14,  15;  Dan.  vii.  9,  10;  I.  Cor. 
vi.  2,  3.) 

Now,  while  they  were  thus  drawing 
towards  the  gate,  behold,  a company  of 
the  heavenly  host  came  out  to  meet 
them ; to  whom  it  was  said  by  the  other 
two  Shining  Ones,  “These  are  the  men 
that  have  loved  our  Lord  when  in  the 
world,  and  that  have  left  all  for  His 
holy  name;  and  He  hath  sent  us  to  fetch 
them,  and  we  have  brought  them  thus 
far  on  their  desired  journey,  that  they  may  go  in  and  look  their  Redeemer 
in  the  face  with  joy.”  Then  the  heavenly  host  gave  a great  shout,  saying, 
“Blessed  are  they  which  are  called  to  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb." 
(Rev.  xix.  9.) 

There  came  out  also  at  this  time  to  meet  them  several  of  the  King’s 
trumpeters,  clothed  in  white  and  shining  raiment,  who,  with  melodious 
noises  and  loud,  made  even  the  heavens  to  echo  with  their  sound. 
These  trumpeters  saluted  Christian  and  his  fellow  with  ten  thousand 


ENTERING  THROUGH  THE  GATE. 


183 


welcomes  from  the  world ; and  this  they  did  with  shouting  and  sound  of 
trumpet 

This  done,  they  compassed  them  round  on  every  side ; some  went  before, 
some  behind,  and  some  on  the  right  hand,  some  on  the  left  (as  it  were  to 
guard  them  through  the  upper  regions),  continually  sounding  as  they  went, 
with  melodious  noise,  in  notes  on  high:  so  that  the  very  sight  was  to  them 
that  could  behold  it  as  if  heaven  itself  was  come  down  to  meet  them. 
Thus,  therefore,  they  walked  on  together;  and,  as  they  walked,  ever  and 
anon  these  trumpeters,  even  with  joyful  sound,  would,  by  mixing  their 
music,  with  looks  and  gestures,  still  signify  to  Christian  and  his  brother 
how  welcome  they  were  into  their  company,  and  with  what  gladness  they 
came  to  meet  them.  And  now  were  these  two  men  as  it  were  in  heaven 
before  they  came  at  it,  being  swallowed  up  with  the  sight  of  angels,  and 
with  hearing  of  their  melodious  notes.  Here  also  they  had  the  City 
itself  in  view,  and  thought  they  heard  all  the  bells  therein  to  ring,  and 
welcome  them  thereto.  But,  above  all,  the  warm  and  joyful  thoughts 
that  they  had  about  their  own  dwelling  there  with  such  company,  and 
that  for  ever  and  ever,  oh!  by  what  tongue  or  pen  can  their  glorious  joy 
d)e  expressed? 

And  thus  they  came  up  to  the  gate.  Now,  when  they  were  come  up  to 
the  gate,  there  was  written  over  it  in  letters  of  gold,  “ Blessed  are  they 
that  do  His  commandments,  that  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree 

OE  LIFE,  AND  MAY  ENTER  IN  THROUGH  THE  GATES  INTO  THE  CITY.”  (Rev. 
xxii.  14.) 

Then  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  Shining  Men  bid  them  call  at  the 
gate:  the  which  when  they  did,  some  from  above  looked  over  the  gate,  to 
wit,  Enoch,  Moses,  and  Elijah,  etc.,  to  whom  it  was  said,  “These  pilgrims 
are  come  from  the  City  of  Destruction,  for  the  love  that  they  bear  to  the 
King  of  this  place.”  And  then  the  pilgrims  gave  in  unto  them  each  man 
his  certificate,  which  they  had  received  in  the  beginning;  those  therefore 
were  carried  in  to  the  King,  who,  when  he  had  read  them,  said,  “Where 
are  the  men?”  To  whom  it  was  answered,  “They  are  standing  with- 
out the  gate.”  The  King  then  commanded  to  open  the  gate,  “ that  the 
righteous  nation,”  said  He,  “which  keepeth  the  truth,  may  enter  in.” 
(Isa.  xxvi.  2.) 

Now,  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  these  two  men  went  in  at  the  gate;  and  lo! 
as  they  entered,  they  were  transfigured ; and  they  had  raiment  put  on  that 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


184 

shone  like  gold.  There  were  also  that  met  them  with  harps  and  crowns, 
and  gave  them  to  them — the  harps  to  praise  withal,  and  the  crowns  in 
token  of  honour.  Then  I heard  in  my  dream  that  all  the  bells  in  the  City 
rang  again  for  joy,  and  that  it  was  said  unto  them,  “Enter  ye  into  the  joy 
of  your  Lord."  (Matt.  xxv.  23.)  I also  heard  the  men  themselves,  that 
they  sang  with  a loud  voice,  saying,  “ Blessing,  and  honour,  and  glory,  and 
power,  be  unto  Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb,  for 
ever  and  ever!"  (Rev.  v.  13.) 

Now,  just  as  the  gates  were  opened  to  let  in  the  men,  I looked  in 
after  them,  and  behold,  the  City  shone  like  the  sun;  the  streets  also 
were  paved  with  gold;  and  in  them  walked  many  men  with  crowns 
on  their  heads,  palms  in  their  hands,  and  golden  harps  to  sing  praises 
withal. 

There  were  also  of  them  that  had  wings,  and  they  answered  one  another 
without  intermission,  saying,  “Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord!"  And,  after 
that,  they  shut  up  the  gates;  which  when  I had  seen,  I wished  myself 
among  them. 

Now  while  I was  gazing  upon  all  these  things,  I turned  my  head  to  look 
back,  and  saw  Ignorance  come  up  to  the  river-side ; but  he  soon  got  over, 
and  that  without  half  the  difficulty  which  the  other  two  men  met  with. 
Lor  it  happened  that  there  was  then  in  the  place  one  Vain-Hope,  a 
ferryman,  that  with  his  boat  helped  him  over;  so  he,  as  the  others  I saw, 
did  ascend  the  hill,  to  come  up  to  the  gate;  only  he  came  alone,  neither  did 
any  man  meet  him  with  the  least  encouragement.  When  he  was  come  up 
to  the  gate,  he  looked  up  to  the  writing  that  was  above,  and  then  began  to 
knock,  supposing  that  entrance  should  have  been  quickly  administered  to 
him;  but  he  was  asked  by  the  men  that  looked  over  the  top  of  the  gate, 
“Whence  came  you?  and  what  would  you  have?”  He  answered,  “I 
have  ate  and  drank  in  the  presence  of  the  King,  and  He  has  taught 
in  out  streets.”  Then  they  asked  him  for  his  certificate,  that  they  might 
go  in  and  show  it  to  the  King:  so  he  fumbled  in  his  bosom  for  one, 
and  found  none.  Then  said  they,  “Have  you  none?”  But  the  man 
answered  never  a word.  So  they  told  the  King;  but  He  would  not 
come  down  to  see  him,  but  commanded  the  two  Shining  Ones  that 
conducted  Christian  and  Hopeful  to  the  city,  to  go  out  and  take  Igno- 
rance, and  bind  him  hand  and  foot,  and  have  him  away.  Then  they 
took  him  up,  and  carried  him  through  the  air  to  the  door  that  I saw 


Then  they  took  him  up,  and  carried  him  through  the  air  to  the  door  that  I saw  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  put  him  in  there.' 


« 


THE  END  OF  THE  PILGRIMAGE. 


187 


in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  put  him  in  there.  Then  I saw  that  there 
was  a way  to  hell,  even  from  the  gates  of  heaven,  as  well  as  from  the 
City  of  Destruction ! 

So  I awoke,  and  behold,  it  was  a dream. 


CONCLUSION. 


OW,  reader,  I have  told  my  dream  to  thee, 
See  if  thou  canst  interpret  it  to  me, 

Or  to  thyself  or  neighbour ; but  take  heed 
Of  misinterpreting  ; for  that,  instead 
Of  doing  good,  will  but  thyself  abuse : 

By  misinterpreting,  evil  ensues. 

Take  heed  also  that  thou  be  not  extreme 
In  playing  with  the  outside  of  my  dream  ; 

Nor  let  my  figure  or  similitude 
Put  thee  into  a laughter  or  a feud. 

Leave  this  for  boys  and  fools ; but  as  for  thee, 
Do  thou  the  substance  of  my  matter  see. 

Put  by  the  curtains,  look  within  my  veil ; 
Turn  up  my  metaphors,  and  do  not  fail, 

There,  if  thou  seekest  them,  such  things  to  find 
As  will  be  helpful  to  an  honest  mind. 

What  of  my  dross  thou  findest  there,  be  bold 
To  throw  away;  but  yet  preserve  the  gold. 

What  if  my  gold  be  wrapped  up  in  ore? 

None  throws  away  the  apple  for  the  core. 

But  if  thou  shalt  cast  all  away  as  vain, 

I know  not  but  ’t  will  make  me  dream  again. 


END  OF  THE  FIRST  PART 


The  Pilgrims  Progress 

part  II 


THE  AUTHOR’S  WAY 
OF  SENDING  FORTH  IIIS 

SECOND  PART  OF  THE  PILGRIM. 

CA  O now,  my  little  book,  to  every  place 

j Where  my  first  Pilgrim  has  but  shown  his  face; 
Call  at  their  door:  if  any  say  “Who’s  there?” 
Then  answer  thou,  “ Christiana  is  here.” 

If  they  bid  thee  come  in,  then  enter  thou, 

With  all  thy  boys  ; and  then,  as  thou  know’st  how, 

Tell  who  they  are,  also  from  whence  they  came  — 
Perhaps  they’ll  know  them  by  their  looks  or  name: 

But,  if  they  should  not,  ask  them  yet  again 
If  formerly  they  did  not  entertain 
One  CHRISTIAN,  a Pilgrim?  If  they  say 
They  did,  and  were  delighted  in  his  way, 

Then  let  them  know  that  those  related  were 
Unto  him  ; yea,  his  wife  and  children  are. 

Tell  them  that  they  have  left  their  house  and  home: 
And  turned  Pilgrims;  seek  a world  to  come; 

That  they  have  met  with  hardships  in  the  way, 

That  they  do  meet  with  troubles  night  and  day ; 

That  they  have  trod  on  serpents,  fought  with  devils ; 
Have  also  overcome  a many  evils; 


IQ2 


THE  A UTHOR'S  IVA  V OF 


Yea,  tell  them  also  of  the  next  who  have, 

Of  love  to  pilgrimage,  been  stout  and  brave 
Defenders  of  that  way  ; and  how  they  still 
Refused  this  world,  to  do  their  Father’s  will. 

Go,  tell  them  also  of  those  dainty  things 
That  pilgrimage  unto  the  Pilgrim  brings. 

Let  them  acquainted  be,  too,  how  they  are 
Beloved  of  their  King,  under  His  care; 

What  goodly  mansions  for  them  He  provides; 

Though  they  meet  with  rough  winds  and  swelling  tides, 
How  brave  a calm  they  will  enjoy  at  last, 

Who  to  the  Lord,  and  by  His  ways,  hold  fast. 

Perhaps  with  heart  and  hand  they  will  embrace 
Thee,  as  they  did  my  firstling,  and  will  grace 
Thee  and  thy  fellows  with  such  cheer  and  fare, 

As  show  will  they  of  Pilgrims  lovers  are. 

OBJECTION  I. 

But  how  if  they  will  not  believe  of  me 
That  I am  truly  thine?  ’Cause  some  there  be 
That  counterfeit  the  Pilgrim  and  his  name  ; 

Seek,  by  disguise,  to  seem  the  very  same ; 

And  by  that  means  have  wrought  themselves  into 
The  hands  and  houses  of  I know  not  who. 

ANSWER. 

’Tis  true,  some  have  of  late,  to  counterfeit  - 
My  Pilgrim,  to  their  own  my  title  set  ; 

Yea,  others  half  my  name  and  title  too 
Have  stitched  to  their  book,  to  make  them  do; 

But  yet  they,  by  their  features,  do  declare 
Themselves  not  mine  to  be,  whose  e’er  they  are. 

If  such  thou  meet’st  with,  then  thine  only  way, 
Before  them  all,  is  to  say  out  thy  say 
In  thine  own  native  language,  which  no  man 
Now  useth,  nor  with  ease  dissemble  can. 

If,  after  all,  they  still  of  you  shall  doubt, 

Thinking  that  you,  like  gipsies,  go  about 
In  naughty-wise  the  country  to  defile, 

Or  that  you  seek  good  people  to  beguile 
With  things  unwarrantable;  — send  for  me, 

And  I will  testify  you  Pilgrims  be ; 


SENDING  FORTH  HIS  SECOND  PART. 


193 


Yea,  I will  testify  that  only  you 
My  Pilgrims  are ; and  that  alone  will  do. 

OBJECTION  II. 

But  yet,  perhaps,  I may  inquire  for  him 
Of  those  that  wish  him  damned,  life  and  limb  ; 

What  shall  I do,  when  I at  such  a door 

For  Pilgrims  ask,  and  they  shall  rage  the  more? 

ANSWER. 

Fright  not  thyself,  my  book;  for  such  bugbears 
Are  nothing  else  but  ground  for  groundless  fears. 

My  Pilgrim’s  book  has  travelled  sea  and  land, 

Yet  could  I never  come  to  understand 
That  it  was  slighted,  or  turned  out  of  door 
By  any  kingdom,  were  they  rich  or  poor. 

In  F ranee  and  Flanders,  where  men  kill  each  other, 
My  Pilgrim  is  esteemed  a friend,  a brother. 

In  Holland,  too,  ’tis  said,  as  I am  told, 

My  Pilgrim  is,  with  some,  worth  more  than  gold. 
Highlanders  and  wild  Irish  can  agree 
My  Pilgrim  should  familiar  with  them  be. 

’Tis  in  New  England  under  such  advance, 

Receives  there  so  much  loving  countenance, 

As  to  be  trimmed,  new  clothed,  and  decked  with  gems, 
That  it  might  show  its  features  and  its  limbs. 

Yet  more;  so  comely  doth  my  Pilgrim  walk, 

That  of  him  thousands  daily  sing  and  talk. 

If  you  draw  nearer  home,  it  will  appear 
My  Pilgrim  knows  no  ground  of  shame  or  fear. 

City  and  country  will  him  entertain 

With  “Welcome  Pilgrim!”  yea,  they  can’t  refrain 

From  smiling,  if  my  Pilgrim  be  but  by, 

Or  shows  his  head  in  any  company. 

Brave  gallants  do  my  Pilgrim  hug  and  love ; 

Esteem  it  much  ; yea,  value  it  above 
Things  of  a greater  bulk;  yea,  with  delight, 

Say,  “ My  lark’s  leg  is  better  than  a kite.” 

Young  ladies  and  young  gentlewomen,  too, 

Do  no  small  kindness  to  my  Pilgrim  show: 

Their  cabinets,  their  bosoms,  and  their  hearts 
My  Pilgrim  has:  ’cause  he  to  them  imparts 


>94 


THE  AUTHORS  WAY  OF 


His  pretty  riddles  in  such  wholesome  strains, 

As  yield  them  profit  double  to  their  pains 
Of  reading;  yea,  I think  I may  be  bold 
To  say,  some  prize  him  far  above  their  gold. 

The  very  children  that  do  walk  the  street, 

If  they  do  but  my  holy  Pilgrim  meet, 

Salute  him  will ; will  wish  him  well,  and  say, 

He  is  the  only  stripling  of  the  day. 

They  that  have  never  seen  him,  yet  admire 
What  they  have  heard  of  him,  and  much  desire 
To  have  his  company,  and  hear  him  tell 
Those  Pilgrim  stories  which  he  knows  so  well. 

Yea,  some  who  did  not  love  him  at  the  first, 

But  called  him  fool  and  noddy,  say  they  must, 

Now  they  have  seen  and  heard  him,  him  commend; 
And  to  those  whom  they  love  they  do  him  send. 

Wherefore,  my  Second  Part,  thou  need’st  not  be 
Afraid  to  show  thy  head  ; none  can  hurt  thee 
That  wish  but  well  to  him  that  went  before, 

’Cause  thou  com’st  after  with  a second  store 
Of  things  as  good,  as  rich,  as  profitable, 

For  young,  for  old,  for  staggering,  and  for  stable. 

OBJECTION  III. 

But  some  there  be  that  say,  “ He  laughs  too  loud  • 
And  some  do  say,  “His  head  is  in  a cloud;” 

Some  say  his  words  and  stories  are  so  dark, 

They  know  not  how  by  them  to  find  his  mark. 

ANSWER. 

One  may,  I think,  say,  Both  his  laughs  and  cries 
May  well  be  guessed  at  by  his  watery  eyes. 

Some  things  are  of  that  nature  as  to  make 
One’s  fancy  chuckle,  while  his  heart  doth  ache. 

When  Jacob  saw  his  Rachel  with  the  sheep, 

He  did  at  the  same  time  both  kiss  and  weep. 

Whereas  some  say,  “ A cloud  is  in  his  head  ; ” 

That  doth  but  show  how  wisdom’s  covered 
With  its  own  mantles,  and  to  stir  the  mind 
To  a search  after  what  it  fain  would  find, 

Thing  that  seem  to  be  hid  in  words  obscure 
Do  but  the  godly  mind  more  allure 


SENDING  FORTH  HIS  SECOND  PART. 


195 


To  study  what  those  sayings  should  contain 
That  speak  to  us  in  such  a cloudy  strain. 

I also  know  a dark  similitude 

Will  on  the  fancy  more  itself  intrude, 

And  will  stick  faster  in  the  heart  and  head, 

Than  things  from  similes  not  borrowed. 

Wherefore,  my  book,  let  no  discouragement 
Hinder  thy  travels  ; behold,  thou  art  sent 
To  friends,  not  foes  ; to  friends  that  will  give  place 
To  thee,  my  Pilgrims,  and  thy  words  embrace. 

Besides,  what  my  first  Pilgrim  left  concealed, 

Thou,  my  brave  second  Pilgrim,  hast  revealed  ; 

What  Christian  left  locked  up,  and  went  his  way, 
Sweet  Christiana  opens  with  her  key. 

OBJECTION  IV. 

But  some  love  not  the  method  of  your  first: 
Romance  they  count  it  — throw’t  away  as  dust. 

If  I should  meet  with  such,  what  should  I say? 

Must  I slight  them  as  they  slight  me,  or  nay? 

ANSWER. 

My  Christiana,  if  with  such  thou  meet, 

By  all  means  in  all  loving-wise  them  greet  ; 

Render  them  not  reviling  for  revile  ; 

But  if  they  frown,  I prithee  on  them  smile. 

Perhaps  'tis  nature,  or  some  ill  report, 

Has  made  them  thus  despise  or  thus  retort. 

Some  love  no  cheese,  some  love  no  fish,  and  some 
Love  not  their  friends,  nor  their  own  house  or  home; 
Some  start  at  pig,  slight  chicken,  love  not  fowl 
More  than  they  love  a cuckoo  or  an  owl. 

Leave  such,  my  Christiana,  to  their  choice, 

And  seek  those  who  to  find  thee  will  rejoice. 

By  no  means  strive,  but  in  all  humble-wise 
Present  thee  to  them  in  thy  Pilgrim’s  guise. 

Go  then,  my  little  book,  and  show  to  all 
That  entertain  and  bid  thee  welcome  shall, 

What  thou  shalt  keep  close  shut  up  from  the  rest ; 
And  wish  what  thou  shalt  show  them  may  be  blest 
To  them  for  good  — may  make  them  choose  to  be 
Pilgrims  better  by  far  than  thee  or  me. 


196 


THE  AUTHOR'S  WAY  OF 


Go  then,  I say,  tell  all  men  who  thou  art  ; 

Say,  I am  Christiana,  and  my  part 
Is  now,  with  my  four  sons,  to  tell  you  what 
It  is  for  men  to  take  a Pilgrim’s  lot. 

Go,  also  tell  them  who  and  what  they  be 
That  now  do  go  on  pilgrimage  with  thee: 

Say,  “Here’s  my  neighbour  Mercy;  she  is  one 
That  has  long  time  with  me  a Pilgrim  gone: 

Come,  see  her  in  her  virgin  face,  and  learn 
’Twixt  idle  ones  and  Pilgrims  to  discern  ; 

Yea,  let  young  damsels  learn  of  her  to  prize 
The  world  which  is  to  come,  in  any  wise.” 

When  little  tripping  maidens  follow  God, 

And  leave  old  doting  sinners  to  His  rod, 

’Tis  like  those  days  wherein  the  young  ones  cried 
“Hosanna!”  to  whom  old  ones  did  deride. 

Next  tell  them  of  old  Honest,  whom  you  found. 
With  his  white  hairs,  treading  the  Pilgrims’  ground. 
Yea,  tell  them  how  plain-hearted  this  man  was; 

How  after  his  good  Lord  he  bare  his  cross. 

Perhaps  with  some  grey  head  this  may  prevail 
With  Christ  to  fall  in  love,  and  sin  bewail. 

Tell  them  also  how  Master  Fearing  went 
On  pilgrimage,  and  how  the  time  he  spent 
In  solitariness,  with  fears  and  cries; 

And  how  at  last  he  won  the  joyful  prize. 

He  was  a good  man,  though  much  down  in  spirit; 
He  is  a good  man,  and  doth  life  inherit. 

Tell  them  of  Master  Feeble-mind  also, 

Who  not  before,  but  still  behind,  would  go; 

Show  them  also  how  he  had  like  been  slain, 

And  how  one  Great-heart  did  his  life  regain. 

This  man  was  true  of  heart,  though  weak  in  grace; 
One  might  true  godliness  read  in  his  face. 

Then  tell  them  of  Master  Ready-to-halt, 

A man  with  crutches,  but  much  without  fault: 

Tell  them  how  Master  Feeble-mind  and  he 
Did  love,  and  in  opinions  much  agree: 

And  let  all  know,  though  weakness  was  their  chance, 
Yet  sometimes  one  could  sing,  the  other  dance. 

Forget  not  Master  Valiant-for-the-truth, 

That  man  of  courage,  though  a very  youth. 


SENDING  FORTH  HIS  SECOND  PART. 


197 


Tell  every  one  his  spirit  was  so  stout, 

No  man  could  ever  make  him  face  about ; 

And  how  Great-heart  and  he  could  not  forbear, 

But  put  down  Doubting  Castle,  slay  Despair  ! 
Overlook  not  Master  Despondency, 

Nor  Much-afraid,  his  daughter,  though  they  lie 
Under  such  mantles  as  may  make  them  look 
(With  some)  as  if  their  God  had  them  forsook. 

They  softly  went,  but  sure;  and,  at  the  end, 

Found  that  the  Lord  of  Pilgrims  was  their  friend. 

When  thou  hast  told  the  world  of  all  these  things, 
Then  turn  about,  my  book,  and  touch  those  strings 
Which,  if  but  touched,  will  such  music  make, 

They’ll  make  a cripple  dance,  a giant  quake. 

These  riddles  that  lie  couched  within  thy  breast. 
Freely  propound,  expound  ; and,  for  the  rest 
Of  thy  mysterious  lines,  let  them  remain 
For  those  whose  nimble  fancies  shall  them  gain. 

Now  may  this  little  book  a blessing  be 
To  those  who  love  this  little  book  and  me; 

And  may  its  buyer  have  no  cause  to  say 
His  money  is  but  lost  or  thrown  away; 

Yea,  may  this  second  Pilgrim  yield  that  fruit 
As  may  with  each  good  pilgrim’s  fancy  suit ; 

And  may  it  some  persuade  that  go  astray, 

To  turn  their  feet  and  heart  to  the  right  way, 


Is  the  hearty  prayer  of 


The  Author, 


. 


* 


THE  PILGRIM’S  PROGRESS. 


PART  II. 


Courteous  Companions, — 

SOME  time  since,  to  tell  you  my  dream  that  I had  of  Christian  the 
Pilgrim,  and  of  his  dangerous  journey  towards  the  Celestial  Country, 
was  pleasant  to  me  and  profitable  to  you.  I told  you  then,  also,  what  I 
saw  concerning  his  wife  and  children,  and  how  unwilling  they  were  to  go 
with  him  on  pilgrimage,  insomuch  that  he  was  forced  to  go  on  his  progress 
without  them;  for  he  durst  not  run  the  danger  of  that  destruction  which  he 
feared  would  come  by  staying  with  them  in  the  City  of  Destruction ; where- 
fore, as  I then  showed  you,  he  left  them  and  departed. 

Now,  it  hath  so  happened,  through  the  multiplicity  of  business,  that  I 
have  been  much  hindered  and  kept  back  from  my  wonted  travels  into  those 
parts  whence  he  went,  and  so  could  not,  till  now,  obtain  an  opportunity  to 
make  further  inquiry  after  those  whom  he  left  behind,  that  I might  give  you 
an  account  of  them.  But,  having  had  some  concerns  that  way  of  late,  I 
went  down  again  thitherward.  Now,  having  taken  up  my  lodgings  in  a 
wood  about  a mile  off  the  place,  as  I slept  I dreamed  again. 

And  as  I was  in  my  dream,  behold,  an  aged  gentleman  came  by  where  I 
lay;  and,  because  he  was  to  go  some  part  of  the  way  that  I was  travelling, 
methought  I got  up  and  went  with  him.  So,  as  we  walked,  and  as  trav- 
ellers usually  do,  I was  as  if  we  fell  into  discourse;  and  our  talk  happened 
to  be  about  Christian  and  his  travels;  for  thus  I began  with  the  old  man: 
“Sir,”  said  I,  “what  town  is  that  there  below,  that  lieth  on  the  left  hand 
of  our  way?” 

Then  said  Mr.  Sagacity  (for  that  was  his  name),  “ It  is  the  City  of 
Destruction ; a populous  place,  but  possessed  with  a very  ill-conditioned 
and  idle  sort  of  people.” 

“ I thought  that  was  that  city,”  quoth  I : “ I went  once  myself  through  that 
town  and  therefore  know  that  this  report  you  give  of  it  is  true,” 


200 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Christians 
are  well 
spoken  of 
when  gone, 
though  called 
fools  while 
they  are  here. 


Sag.  Too  true!  I wish  I could  speak  truth  in  speaking  better  of  them 
that  dwell  therein. 

“Well,  sir,”  quoth  I,  “then  I perceive  you  to  be  a well-meaning  man, 
and  so  one  that  takes  pleasure  to  hear  and  tell  of  that  which  is  good. 
Pray,  did  you  never  hear  what  happened  to  a man  some  time  ago  of  this 
town  (whose  name  was  Christian),  that  went  on  pilgrimage  up  towards  the 
higher  regions  ?” 

Sag.  Hear  of  him!  Ay,  and  I also  heard  of  the  molestations,  troubles, 
wars,  captivities,  cries,  groans,  frights,  and  fears  that  he  met  with  and  had 
in  his  journey.  Besides,  I must  tell  you  all  our  country  rings 
of  him:  there  are  but  few  houses  that  have  heard  of  him  and 
his  doings  but  have  sought  after  and  got  the  record  of  his 
pilgrimage.  Yea,  I think  I may  say  that  his  hazardous  journey 
has  got  many  well-wishers  to  his  ways;  for  though,  when  he 
was  here,  he  was  a fool  in  every  man’s  mouth,  yet  now  he  is 
gone  he  is  highly  commended  of  all.  For  t is  said  he  lives 
bravely  where  he  is:  yea,  many  of  them  that  are  resolved  never  to  run  his 
hazards,  yet  have  their  mouths  water  at  his  gains. 

“They  may,”  quoth  I,  “well  think,  if  they  think  anything  that  is  true,  that 
he  liveth  well  where  he  is;  for  he  now  lives  at  and  in  the  Fountain  of  Life, 
and  has  what  he  has  without  labour  and  sorrow;  for  there  is  no  grief  mixed 
therewith.  But,  pray,  what  talk  have  the  people  about  him?” 

Sag.  Talk!  the  people  talk  strangely  about  him;  some  say  that  he  now- 
walks  in  white  (Rev.  iii.  4);  that  he  has  a chain  of  gold  about  his  neck;  that 
he  has  a crown  of  gold  beset  with  pearls  upon  his  head.  Others  say  that 
the  Shining  Ones,  that  sometimes  showed  themselves  unto  him  in  his 
journey,  are  become  his  companions,  and  that  he  is  as  familiar  with  them  in 
the  place  where  he  is,  as  here  one  neighbour  is  with  another.  Besides,  it  is 
confidently  affirmed  concerning  him,  that  the  King  of  the  place  where  he  is 
has  bestowed  upon  him  already  a very  rich  and  pleasant  dwelling  at  court, 
and  that  he  every  day  eateth  and  drinketh,  and  walketh  and  talketh  with 
Him,  and  receiveth  of  the  smiles  and  favours  of  Him  that  is  Judge  of  all 
there.  (Zech.  iii.  7;  Luke  xiv.  14,  15.)  Moreover,  it  is  expected  of  some, 
that  his  Prince,  the  Lord  of  that  country,  will  shortly  come  into  these  parts, 
and  will  know  the  reason,  if  they  can  give  any,  why  his  neighbours  set  so 
little  by  him,  and  had  him  so  much  in  derision,  when  they  perceived  that  he 
would  be  a pdgrim.  (Jude  14,  15.)  For  they  say,  that  now  he  is  so  in  the 


THE  AUTHOR  AND;, MR.  SAGACITY. 


SAGACITY  RELATES  HIS  STORY. 


203 


affections  of  his  Prince,  and  that  his  Sovereign  is  so  much  concerned  with 
the  indignities  that  were  cast  upon  Christian  when  he  became  a pilgrim, 
that  He  will  look  upon  all  as  if  done  unto  Himself  (Luke  x.  16);  and  no 
marvel,  for  it  was  for  the  love  that  he  had  to  his  Prince  that  he  ventured 
as  he  did. 

“I  daresay,”  quoth  I;  “I  am  glad  on ’t;  I am  glad  for  the  poor  man’s 
sake,  for  that  he  now  has  rest  from  his  labour,  and  for  that  he  reapeth  the 
benefit  of  his  tears  with  joy,  and  for  that  he  has  got  beyond  gunshot  of  his 
enemies,  and  is  out  of  the  reach  of  them  that  hate  him.  (Rev.  xiv.  13;  Psa. 
cxxvi.  5.  6.)  I also  am  glad  for  that  a 
rumour  of  these  things  is  noised  abroad 
in  this  country:  who  can  tell  but  that  it 
may  work  some  good  effect  on  some 
that  are  left  behind?  But  pray,  sir, 
while  it  is  fresh  in  my  mind,  do  you 
hear  anything  of  his  wife  and  children  ? 

Poor  hearts!  I wonder  in  my  mind  what 
they  do.” 

Sag.  Who  ? Christiana  and  her  sons  ? 

They  are  like  to  do  as  well  as  did 
Christian  himself;  for,  though  they  all 
played  the  fool  at  first,  and  would  by  no 
means  be  persuaded  by  either  the  tears 
or  entreaties  of  Christian,  yet,  second 
thoughts  have  wrought  wonderfully 
with  them,  so  they  have  packed  up,  and 
are  also  gone  after  him. 

“Better  and  better,”  quoth  I:  “but, 
what!  wife  and  children  and  all?” 

Sag.  It  is  true:  I can  give  you  an 
account  of  the  matter,  for  I was  upon  the  spot  at  the  instant,  and  was 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  whole  affair. 

“Then,”  said  I,  “a  man,  it  seems,  may  report  it  for  a truth?” 

Sag.  You  need  not  fear  to  affirm  it.  I mean,  that  they  are  all  gone  on 
pilgrimage,  both  the  good  woman  and  her  four  boys.  And,  being  (we  are, 
as  I perceive)  going  some  considerable  way  together,  I will  give  you  an 
account  of  the  whole  matter. 


“Her  thoughts  began  to  work  in  her  mind.’’ 


204 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


This  Christiana  (for  that  was  her  name  from  the  day  that  she,  with  her 
children,  betook  themselves  to  a pilgrim’s  life)  after  her  husband  had  gone 
over  the  river,  and  she  could  hear  of  him  no  more,  her  thoughts  began  to 
work  in  her  mind.  First,  for  that  she  had  lost  her  husband, 
and  for  that  the  loving  bond  of  that  relation  was  utterly  broken 
betwixt  them.  For  you  know  (said  he  to  me)  nature  can  do 
no  less  but  entertain  the  living  with  many  a heavy  cogitation, 
in  the  remembrance  of  the  loss  of  loving  relations.  This, 
therefore,  of  her  husband,  did  cost  her  many  a tear.  But  this 
was  not  all ; for  Christiana  did  also  begin  to  consider  with  herself,  whether 
unbecoming  behaviour  towards  her  husband  was  not  one  cause  that  she  saw 
him  no  more,  and  that  in  such  sort  he  was  taken  away  from  her.  And, 
upon  this,  came  into  her  mind,  by  swarms,  all  her  unkind,  unnatural,  and 
ungodly  carriages  to  her  dear  friend ; which  also  clogged  her  conscience, 
and  did  load  her  with  guilt.  She  was,  moreover,  much  broken  with 
recalling  to  remembrance  the  restless  groans,  brinish  tears,  and  self- 
bemoanings  of  her  husband,  and  how  she  did  harden  her  heart  against  all 
his  entreaties  and  loving  persuasions  of  her  and  her  sons  to  go  with  him ; 
yea,  there  was  not  anything  that  Christian  either  said  to  her  or  did  before 
her,  all  the  while  that  his  burden  did  hang  on  his  back,  but  it  returned  upon 
her  like  a flash  of  lightning,  and  rent  the  caul  of  her  heart  in  sunder. 
Specially  that  bitter  outcry  of  his,  “What  shall  I do  to  be  saved?”  did  ring 
in  her  ears  most  dolefully. 

Then  said  she  to  her  children,  “Sons,  we  are  all  undone.  I have  sinned 
away  your  father,  and  he  is  gone;  he  would  have  had  us  with  him,  but  I 
would  not  go  myself;  I also  have  hindered  you  of  life.” 

With  that,  the  boys  fell  all  into  tears,  and  cried  out  to  go  after  their 
father. 

“Oh,”  said  Christiana,  “that  it  had  been  but  our  lot  to  go  with  him!  then 
had  it  fared  well  with  us,  beyond  what  it  is  like  to  do  now.  For  though  I 
formerly  foolishly  imagined,  concerning  the  troubles  of  your  father,  that 
they  proceeded  of  a foolish  fancy  that  he  had,  or  for  that  he  was  overrun 
with  melancholy  humours;  yet  now  it  will  not  out  of  my  mind  but  that 
they  sprang  from  another  cause;  to  wit,  for  that  the  light  of  life  was  given 
him  (James  i.  23 — 25),  by  the  help  of  which,  as  I perceive,  he  has  escaped 
the  snares  of  death.”  (Prov.  xiv.  27.) 

Then  they  all  wept  again,  and  cried  out,  “Oh,  woe  worth  the  day!’ 


Mark  this, 
you  that  are 
churls  to 
your  godly 
relations. 


Then  said  she  to  her  children,  'Sons,  we  are  all  undone 


CHRISTIANA  HAS  A DREAM. 


20/ 


Mark  this. 
This  is  the 
quintessence 
of  hell. 


The  next  night  Christiana  had  a dream;  and,  behold,  she  saw  as  if  a 
broad  parehment  were  opened  before  her,  in  which  were  recorded  the  sum 
of  her  ways;  and  the  times,  as  she  thought,  looked  very  black  upon  her. 
Then  she  cried  out  aloud  in  her  sleep,  “Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me  a 
sinner!”  (Luke  xviii.  13);  and  the  little  children  heard  her. 

After  this,  she  thought  she  saw  two  very  ill-favoured  ones 
standing  by  her  bed-side,  and  saying,  “What  shall  we  do  with 
this  woman?  for  she  cries  out  for  mercy  waking  and  sleeping: 
if  she  be  suffered  to  go  on  as  she  begins,  we  shall  lose  her  as 
we  have  lost  her  husband.  Wherefore  we  must,  by  one  way  or  other,  seek 
to  take  her  off  from  the  thoughts  of  what  shall  be  hereafter;  else,  all  the 
world  cannot  help  but  she  will  become  a pilgrim.” 

Now  she  awoke  in  a great  sweat;  also  a trembling  was  upon  her;  but 
after  awhile,  she  fell  to  sleeping  again.  And  then  she  thought  she  saw 
Christian  her  husband  in  a place  of  bliss,  among  many  immortals,  with  a 
harp  in  his  hand,  standing  and  playing  upon  it  before  One  that  sat  upon  a 
throne,  with  a rainbow  about  His  head.  She  saw,  also,  as  if  he  bowed  his 
head  with  his  face  to  the  paved  work  that  was  under  the  Prince’s  feet, 
saying,  “I  heartily  thank  my  Lord  and  King  for  bringing  of  me  into  this 
place.  Then  shouted  a company  of  them  that  stood  round  about,  and 
harped  with  their  harps;  but  no  man  living  could  tell  what  they  said,  but 
Christian  and  his  companions. 

Next  morning,  when  she  was  up,  and  had  prayed  to  God  and  talked  with 
her  children  awhile,  one  knocked  hard  at  the  door;  to  whom  she  spake  out, 
saying,  “If  thou  comest  in  God’s  name,  come  in.”  So  he  said,  “Amen,” 
and  opened  the  door,  and  saluted  her  with  “Peace  be  to  this  house!”  The 
which,  when  he  had  done,  he  said,  “Christiana,  knowest  thou  wherefore  I 
am  come?”  Then  she  blushed  and  trembled,  also  her  heart  began  to  wax 
warm  with  desires  to  know  from  whence  he  came,  and  what  was  his  errand 
to  her.  So  he  said  unto  her,  “My  name  is  Secret:  I dwell  with  those  that 
are  on  high.  It  is  talked  of  where  I dwell,  as  if  thou  hadst  a desire  to  go 
thither;  also  there  is  a report  that  thou  art  aware  of  the  evil  thou  has 
formerly  done  to  thy  husband,  in  hardening  thy  heart  against 
his  way,  and  in  keeping  of  these  thy  babes  in  their  ignorance. 

Christiana,  the  Merciful  One  hath  sent  me  to  tell  thee,  that  He  fresh  tidings 
is  a God  ready  to  forgave,  and  that  He  taketh  delight  to  of  <3od  s 

y 0 0 readiness  to 

multiply  the  pardon  of  offences.  He  also  would  have  thee  pardon. 


208 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


know  that  He  inviteth  thee  to  come  into  His  presence,  to  His  table,  and 
that  He  will  feed  thee  with  the  fat  of  His  house,  and  with  the  heritage  of 
Jacob  thy  father. 

“There  is  Christian,  thy  husband  that  was,  with  legions  more,  his  com- 
panions, ever  beholding  that  face  that  doth  minister  life  to  beholders;  and 
they  will  be  glad  when  they  shall  hear  the  sound  of  thy  feet  step  over  thy 
Father’s  threshold.” 

Christiana  at  this  was  greatly  abashed  in  herself,  and  bowed  her  head  to 
the  ground. 

This  visitor  proceeded,  and  said,  “Christiana,  here  is  also  a letter  for  thee, 
which  I have  brought  from  thy  husband’s  King.”  So  she  took  it,  and 
opened  it;  but  it  smelt  after  the  manner  of  the  best  perfume  (Cant.  i.  3); 
also  it  was  written  in  letters  of  gold.  The  contents  of  the  letter  were 
these:  “That  the  King  would  have  her  to  do  as  Christian  her  husband;  for 
that  was  the  way  to  come  to  His  City,  and  to  dwell  in  His  presence  with 
joy  for  ever.” 

At  this  the  good  woman  was  quite  overcome;  so  she  cried  out  to  her 
visitor,  “Sir,  will  you  carry  me  and  my  children  with  you,  that  we  also  may 
go  and  worship  this  King?" 

Then  said  the  visitor,  “Christiana,  the  bitter  is  before  the  sweet.  Thou 
must  through  troubles,  as  did  he  that  went  before  thee,  enter  the  Celestial 
City.  Wherefore  I advise  thee  to  do  as  did  Christian  thy  husband:  go  to 
the  wicket-gate  yonder  over  the  plain,  for  that  stands  in  the  head  of  the 
way  up  which  you  must  go;  and  I wish  thee  all  good  speed.  Also  I advise 
that  thou  put  this  letter  in  thy  bosom,  that  thou  read  therein  to  thyself,  and 
to  thy  children,  until  you  have  got  it  by  rote  of  heart;  for  it  is  one  of  the 
songs  that  thou  must  sing  while  thou  art  in  this  house  of  thy  pilgrimage. 
(Psa.  cxix.  54.)  Also  this  thou  must  deliver  in  at  the  farther  gate." 

Now,  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  this  old  gentleman,  as  he  told  me  the 
story,  did  himself  seem  to  be  greatly  affected  therewith.  He  moreover 
proceeded,  and  said : 

So  Christiana  called  her  sons  together,  and  began  thus  to  address  her- 
self unto  them : “ My  sons,  I have,  as  you  may  perceive,  been  of  late  under 
much  exercise  in  my  soul  about  the  death  of  your  father:  not  for  that  I 
doubt  at  all  of  his  happiness,  for  I am  satisfied  now  that  he  is  well.  I have 
also  been  much  affected  with  the  thoughts  of  mine  own  state  and  yours, 
which  I verily  believe  is  by  nature  miserable.  My  carriages  also  to  your 


MERCY  AND  MRS.  TIMOROUS  VISIT  CHRISTIANA. 


209 


father  in  his  distress  is  a great  load  to  my  conscience,  for  I hardened  both 
mine  own  heart  and  yours  against  him,  and  refused  to  go  with  him  on 
pilgrimage. 

“The  thoughts  of  these  things  would  now  kill  me  outright,  but  for  a 
dream  which  I had  last  night,  and  but  for  the  encouragement  that  this 
stranger  has  given  me  this  morning.  Come,  my  children,  let  us  pack  up, 
and  be  gone  to  the  gate  that  leads  to  the  Celestial  Country,  that  we  may 
see  your  father,  and  be  with  him  and  his  companions  in  peace,  according  to 
the  laws  of  that  land.” 

Then  did  her  children  burst  out  into  tears,  for  joy  that  the  heart  of  their 
mother  was  so  inclined.  So  their  visitor  bade  them  farewell;  and  they 
began  to  prepare  to  set  out  for  their  journey. 

But  while  they  were  thus  about  to  be  gone,  two  of  the  women  that  were 
Christiana’s  neighbours  came  up  to  the  house,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 
To  whom  she  said  as  before,  “If  you  come  in  God's  name,  come  in.”  At 
this  the  women  were  stunned ; for  this  kind  of  language  they  used  not  to 
hear,  or  to  perceive  to  drop  from  the  lips  of  Christiana.  Yet  they  came  in; 
but,  behold  they  found  the  good  woman  preparing  to  be  gone  from  her 
house. 

So  they  began,  and  said,  “Neighbour,  pray  what  is  your  meaning  by 
this?” 

Christiana  answered  and  said  to  the  eldest  of  them,  whose  name  was 
Mrs.  Timorous,  “ I am  preparing  for  a journey.” 

This  Timorous  was  daughter  to  him  that  met  Christian  upon  the  Hill 
Difficulty,  and  would  have  had  him  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions. 

Tim.  For  what  journey,  I pray  you? 

Chr.  Even  to  go  after  my  good  husband.  And  with  that  she  fell 
a-weeping. 

Tim.  I hope  not  so,  good  neighbour.  Pray,  for  your  poor  children’s 
sake,  do  not  so  unwomanly  cast  away  yourself. 

Chr.  Nay,  my  children  shall  go  with  me;  not  one  of  them  is  willing  to 
stay  behind. 

Tim.  I wonder  in  my  very  heart  what  or  who  has  brought  you  into  this 
mind ! 

Chr.  Oh,  neighbour,  knew  you  but  as  much  as  I do,  I doubt  not  but 
that  you  would  go  with  me. 

Tim.  Prithee,  what  new  knowledge  hast  thou  got  that  so  worketh  off 


210 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


thy  mind  from  thy  friends,  and  that  tempteth  thee  to  go  nobody  knows 
where  ? 

Chr.  Then  Christiana  replied,  “ I have  been  sorely  afflicted  since  my 
husband’s  departure  from  me,  but  especially  since  he  went 
Death.  over  the  river.  But  that  which  troubleth  me  most  is  my 
churlish  carriages  to  him  when  he  was  under  his  distress. 
Besides,  I am  now  as  he  was  then:  nothing  will  serve  me  but  going  on 
pilgrimage.  I was  a-dreaming  last  night  that  I saw  him.  Oh  that  my  soul 
was  with  him!  He  dwelleth  in  the  presence  of  the  King  of  the  country; 
he  sits  and  eats  with  Him  at  His  table;  he  has  become  a companion  of 
immortals,  and  has  a house  now  given  him  to  dwell  in,  to  which  the  best 
palaces  on  earth,  if  compared,  seem  to  me  but  as  a dunghill.  (II.  Cor.  v. 
i — 4.)  The  Prince  of  the  place  has  also  sent  for  me,  with  promises  of 
entertainment  if  I shall  come  to  Him;  His  messenger  was  here  even  now, 
and  has  brought  me  a letter  which  invites  me  to  come.”  And  with  that 
she  plucked  out  the  letter,  and  read  it,  and  said  to  them,  “What  now  will 
you  say  to  this?” 

Tim.  Oh,  the  madness  that  hath  possessed  thee  and  thy  husband,  to  run 
yourselves  upon  such  difficulties!  You  have  heard,  I am  sure,  what  your 
husband  did  meet  with,  even  in  a manner  at  the  first  step  that  he  took  on 
his  way,  as  our  neighbour  Obstinate  can  yet  testify,  for  he  went  along  with 
them;  yea,  and  Pliable  too;  until  they,  like  wise  men,  were  afraid  to  go  any 
farther.  We  also  heard,  over  and  above,  how  he  met  with  the 
The  reason-  lions,  Apollyon,  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  many  other  things. 

flesh.°  1L  Nor  is  the  danger  he  met  with  at  Vanity  Fair  to  be  forgotten 

by  thee.  For  if  he,  though  a man,  was  so  hard  put  to  it,  what 
canst  thou,  being  but  a poor  woman,  do?  Consider  also  that  these  four 
sweet  babes  are  thy  children,  thy  flesh  and  thy  bones.  Wherefore,  though 
thou  shouldest  be  so  rash  as  to  cast  away  thyself,  yet,  for  the  sake  of  the 
fruit  of  thy  body,  keep  thou  at  home. 

But  Christiana  said  unto  her,  “Tempt  me  not,  my  neighbour.  I have 
now  a price  put  into  my  hands  to  get  gain,  and  I should  be  a fool  of  the 
greatest  size  if  I should  have  no  heart  to  strike  in  with  the  opportunity. 
And  for  that  you  tell  me  of  all  these  troubles  which  I am  like  to  meet  with 
in  the  way,  they  are  so  far  off  from  being  to  me  a discourage- 
A pertinent  ment,  that  they  show  I am  in  the  right.  The  bitter  must  come 

ly  reasonings,  before  the  sweet,  and  that  also  will  make  the  sweet  the 


MERCY  RESOLVES  TO  BECOME  A PILGRIM. 


21  I 


sweeter.  Wherefore,  since  you  came  not  to  my  house  in  God’s  name,  as  I 
said,  I pray  you  to  be  gone,  and  not  to  disquiet  me  further.” 

Then  Timorous  reviled  her,  and  said  to  her  fellow,  “Come,  neighbour 
Mercy,  let  us  leave  her  in  her  own  hands,  since  she  scorns  our  counsel  and 
company.”  But  Mercy  was  at  a stand,  and  could  not  so  readily  comply 
with  her  neighbour,  and  that  for  a twofold  reason,  i.  Her  bowels 
yearned  over  Christiana;  so  she  said  within  herself,  “If  my  neighbour  will 
needs  be  gone,  I will  go  a little  way  with  her,  and  help  her.”  2.  Her 
bowels  yearned  over  her  own  soul ; for 
what  Christiana  had  said  had  taken  hold 
upon  her  mind.  Wherefore  she  said 
within  herself  again,  “I  will  yet  have 
more  talk  with  this  Christiana,  and  if  I 
find  truth  and  life  in  what  she  shall  say, 
myself,  with  my  heart,  shall  also  go  with 
her.”  Wherefore  Mercy  began  thus  to 
reply  to  her  neighbour  Timorous: 

Mer.  Neighbour,  I did  indeed  come 
with  you  to  see  Christiana  this  morning; 
and  since  she  is,  as  you  see,  taking  her 
last  farewell  of  her  country,  I think  to 
walk  this  sunshiny  morning  a little  with 
her,  to  help  her  on  her  way. 

But  she  told  her  not  of  the  second 
reason,  but  kept  that  to  herself. 

Tim.  Well,  I see  you  have  a mind  to 
go  a-fooling  too;  but  take  heed  in  time, 
and  be  wise.  While  we  are  out  of 
danger,  we  are  out;  but  when  we  are  in, 
we  are  in. 

So  Mrs.  Timorous  returned  to  her  house,  and  Christiana  betook  herself 
to  her  journey.  But  when  Timorous  was  got  home  to  her  house,  she  sends 
for  some  of  her  neighbours;  to  wit,  Mrs.  Bat’s-eyes,  Mrs.  Inconsiderate, 
Mrs.  Light-mind,  and  Mrs.  Know-nothing.  So,  when  they  were  come  to 
her  house,  she  falls  to  telling  of  the  story  of  Christiana  and  of  her  intended 
journey.  And  thus  she  began  her  tale: 

Tim.  Neighbours,  having  had  little  to  do  this  morning,  I went  to  give 


'*'12 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Christiana  a visit;  and  when  I came  at  the  door,  I knocked,  as  you  know  it 
is  our  custom;  and  she  answered,  “If  you  come  in  God’s  name,  come  in.” 
So  in  I went,  thinking  all  was  well;  but  when  I came  in  I found  her  pre- 
paring herself  to  depart  the  town,  she  and  also  her  children.  So  I asked 
her  what  was  her  meaning  by  that.  And  she  told  me,  in  short,  that  she 
was  now  of  a mind  to  go  on  pilgrimage,  as  did  her  husband.  She  told  me 
also  a dream  that  she  had,  and  how  the  King  of  the  country  where  her 
husband  was  had  sent  her  an  inviting  letter  to  come  thither. 

Then  said  Mrs.  Know-nothing,  “And,  what!  do  you  think  she  will  go?” 
Tim.  Ay,  go  she  will,  whatever  comes  on  t;  and  methinks  I know  it  by 
this:  for  that  which  was  my  great  argument  to  persuade  her  to  stay  at  home 
(to  wit,  the  troubles  she  was  like  to  meet  with  in  the  way)  is  one  great 
argument  with  her  to  put  her  forward  on  her  journey.  For  she  told  me, 
in  so  many  words,  “The  bitter  goes  before  the  sweet;  yea,  and  forasmuch 
as  it  so  doth,  it  makes  the  sweet  the  sweeter.” 

Mrs.  Bat’s-eyes.  “Oh,  this  blind  and  foolish  woman!”  said  she;  “will 
she  not  take  warning  by  her  husband’s  afflictions?  For  my  part,  I see,  if 
he  were  here  again,  he  would  rest  him  content  in  a whole  skin,  and  never 
run  so  many  hazards  for  nothing.” 

Mrs.  Inconsiderate  also  replied,  saying,  “Away  with  such  fantastical  fools 
from  the  town!  a good  riddance,  for  my  part,  I say,  of  her!  Should  she 
stay  where  she  dwells,  and  retain  this  her  mind,  who  could  live  quietly  by 
her?  for  she  will  either  be  dumpish,  or  unneighbourly,  or  talk  of  such 
matters  as  no  wise  body  can  abide.  Wherefore,  for  my  part,  I shall  never 
be  sorry  for  her  departure:  let  her  go,  and  let  better  come  in  her  room.  It 
was  never  a good  world  since  these  whimsical  fools  dwelt  in  it.” 

Then  Mrs.  Light-mind  added  as  followeth:  “Come,  put  this  kind  of  talk 
away.  I was  yesterday  at  Madam  Wanton’s,  where  we  were 
as  merry  as  the  maids.  For  who  do  you  think  should  be 
there,  but  I and  Mrs.  Love-the-Flesh,  and  three  or  four  more, 
with  Mr.  Lechery,  Mrs.  Filth,  and  some  others.  So  there  we 
had  music  and  dancing,  and  what  -else  was  meet  to  fill  up  the 
pleasure.  And,  I dare  say,  my  lady  herself  is  an  admirable 
well-bred  gentlewoman,  and  Mr.  Lechery  is  as  pretty  a fellow.” 
By  this  time  Christiana  was  got  on  her  way,  and  Mercy  went  along  with 
her.  So  as  they  went,  her  children  being  there  also,  Christiana  began  to 
discourse.  “And,  Mercy,”  said  Christiana,  “ I take  this  as  an  unexpected 


Madam 
Wanton,  she 
that  had  like 
to  have  been 
too  hard  for 
Faithful  in 
time  past. 


. TIMOROUS'S  NEIGHBORS, 


MERCY  RESOLVES  TO  BECOME  A PI  LG  REM. 


215 


favour,  that  thou  shouldst  set  forth  out  of  doors  with  me,  to  accompany  me 
a little  in  my  way.” 

Mer.  Then  said  young  Mercy  (for  she  was  but  young),  “ If  I thought  it 
would  be  to  purpose  to  go  with  you,  I would  never  go  near  the  town  any 
more.” 


Che.  “Well,  Mercy,”  said  Christiana,  “cast  in  thy  lot  with  me:  I well 
know  what  will  be  the  end  of  our  pilgrimage:  my  husband  is  where  he 
would  not  but  be  for  all  the  gold  in  the  Spanish  mines.  Nor  shalt  thou  be 
rejected,  though  thou  goest  but  upon  my  invitation.  The  King  who  hath 
sent  for  me  and  my  children  is  One  that  delighteth  in  mercy.  Besides,  if 
thou  wilt,  I will  hire  thee,  and  thou  shalt  go  along  with  me  as  my  servant; 
yet  we  will  have  all  things  in  common  betwixt  thee  and  me:  only  go  along 
with  me.” 

Mer.  But  how  shall  I be  ascertained  that  I also  shall  be  entertained? 
Had  I this  hope  but  from  one  that  can  tell,  I would  make  no  stick  at  all, 
but  would  go,  being  helped  by  Him  that  can  help,  though  the  way  be  never 
so  tedious. 

Chr.  Well,  loving  Mercy,  I will  tell  thee  what  thou  shalt 
do;  go  with  me  to  the  wicket-gate,  and  there  I will  further 
inquire  for  thee;  and  if  there  thou  dost  not  meet  with  encour- 
agement, I will  be  content  that  thou  shalt  return  to  thy  place: 

I also  will  pay  thee  for  thy  kindness  which  thou  showest  to  me 
and  my  children,  in  the  accompanying  of  us  in  our  way  as 
thou  dost. 

Mer.  Then  will  I go  thither,  and  will  take  what  shall  follow;  and  the 
Lord  grant  that  my  lot  may  there  fall,  even  as  the  King  of  heaven  shall 
have  His  heart  upon  me! 

Christiana  was  then  glad  at  her  heart,  not  only  that  she  had  a com- 
panion, but  also  for  that  she  had  prevailed  with  this  poor  maid  to  fall  in 
love  with  her  own  salvation.  So  they  went  on  together,  and  Mercy  began 
to  weep. 

Then  said  Christiana,  “Wherefore  weepeth  my  sister  so?” 

Mer.  “Alas!”  said  she,  “who  can  but  lament,  that  shall  but  rightly  con- 
sider what  a state  and  condition  my  poor  relations  are  in,  that  yet  remain 
in  our  sinful  town?  And  that  which  makes  my  grief  the  more  heavy  is, 
because  they  have  no  instructor,  nor  any  to  tell  them  what  is  to  come. 

Chr.  Bowels  becometh  pilgrims;  and  thou  dost  for  thy  friends  as  my 


Christiana 
allures  her  to 
the  gate, 
which  is 
Christ,  and 
promiseth 
there  to  in- 
quire for  her. 


21 6 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Christian’s  good  Christian  did  for  me  when  he  left  me:  he  mourned  for 
answered  for  that  I would  not  heed  nor  regard  him;  but  his  Lord  and  ours 
his  relations  did  gather  up  his  tears,  and  put  them  into  His  bottle;  and  now 

ci f ter  he  wss 

dead  ‘ ' both  I and  thou,  and  these  my  sweet  babes,  are  reaping  the 
fruit  and  benefit  of  them.  I hope,  Mercy,  that  these  tears  of 
thine  will  not  be  lost;  for  the  Truth  hath  said  that  “they  that  sow  in  tears 
shall  reap  in  joy,"  in  singing;  and  “he  thatgoeth  forth  and  weepeth,  bearing 
precious  seed,  shall  doubtless  come  again  with  rejoicing,  bringing  his 
sheaves  with  him."  (Psa.  exxvi.  5,  6.) 

Then  said  Mercy: 


“ Let  the  Most  Blessed  be  my  guide, 
If ’t  be  His  blessed  will, 

Unto  His  gate,  into  His  fold, 

Up  to  His  holy  hill. 

“And  let  Him  never  suffer  me 
To  swerve  or  turn  aside 
From  His  free  grace  and  holy  ways, 
Whate’er  shall  me  betide. 


“And  let  Him  gather  them  of  mine 
That  I have  left  behind : 

Lord,  make  them  pray  they  may  be  Thine, 
With  all  their  heart  and  mind.” 


Now  my  old  friend  proceeded,  and  said,  “But  when  Christiana  came  to 
the  Slough  of  Despond,  she  began  to  be  at  a stand;  ‘For,'  said  she,  ‘this  is 
the  place  in  which  my  dear  husband  had  like  to  have  been  smothered  with 
mud.’  She  perceived  also  that,  notwithstanding  the  command  of  the  King 
to  make  this  place  for  pilgrims  good,  yet  it  was  rather  worse  than  formerly." 
So  I asked  if  that  was  true. 

“Yes,”  said  the  old  gentleman,  “too  true,  for  many  there  be  that  pretend 
to  be  the  King’s  labourers,  and  say  they  are  for  mending  the 
King’s  highway,  that  bring  dirt  and  dung  instead  of  stones, 
and  so  mar  instead  of  mending.  Here  Christiana,  therefore, 
with  her  boys,  did  make  a stand.  But  said  Mercy,  ‘Come,  let 
us  venture,  only  let  us  be  wary.’  Then  they  looked  well  to 
their  steps,  and  made  shift  to  get  staggeringly  over.  Yet 
Christiana  had  like  to  have  been  in,  and  that  not  once  nor  twice. 

“ Now,  they  had  no  sooner  got  over,  but  they  thought  they  heard  words 


Their  own 
carnal  con- 
clusions, in- 
stead of  the 
Word  of 
Life. 


AT  THE  WICKET- GATE. 


21 7 


that  said  unto  them,  ‘Blessed  is  she  that  believeth,  for  there  shall  be  a per- 
formance of  those  things  which  were  told  her  from  the  Lord.’  (Luke 

'■  45-) 

“Then  they  went  on  again;  and  said  Mercy  to  Christiana,  ‘Had  I as 
good  ground  to  hope  for  a loving  reception  at  the  wicket-gate  as  you,  I 
think  no  Slough  of  Despond  would  discourage  me.’ 

“‘Well,’  said  the  other,  ‘You  know  your  sore,  and  I know  mine;  and, 
good  friend,  we  shall  all  have  enough  evil  before  we  come  at  our  journey’s 
end.  For  can  it  be  imagined  that  the 
people  that  design  to  attain  such  excel- 
lent glories  as  we  do,  and  that  are  so 
envied  that  happiness  as  we  are,  but 
that  we  shall  meet  with  what  fears  and 
scares,  with  what  troubles  and  afflictions 
they  can  possibly  assault  us  with,  that 
hate  us?’ 

And  now  Mr.  Sagacity  left  me  to 
dream  out  my  dream  by  myself.  Where- 
fore, methought  I saw  Christiana,  and 
Mercy,  and  the  boys,  go  all 
of  them  up  to  the  gate;  to 
which  when  they  were 
come,  they  betook  them- 
selves to  a short  debate 
about  how  they  must  man- 
age their  calling  at  the  gate, 
and  what  should  be  said 

unto  him  that  did  open  unto  them:  so  “Come,  let  us  venture,  only  let  us  be  wary.1' 

it  was  concluded,  since  Christiana  was 

the  eldest,  that  she  should  knock  for  entrance,  and  that  she  shoffld  speak  to 
him  that  did  open,  for  the  rest.  So  Christiana  began  to  knock,  and,  as  her 
poor  husband  did,  she  knocked  and  knocked  again.  But  instead  of  any 
that  answered,  they  all  thought  that  they  heard  as  if  a dog  came  barking 
upon  them;  a dog,  and  a great  one  too:  and  this  made  the 
women  and  children  afraid,  nor  durst  they  for  awhile  to  knock  The  dog,  the 

*'  i • i 

any  more,  for  fear  the  mastiff  should  fly  upon  them.  Now,  enemy^o 
therefore,  they  were  greatly  tumbled  up  and  down  in  their  prayer. 


Prayer 
should  be 
made  with 
considera- 
tion and  fear, 
as  well  as  in 
faith  and 
hope. 


218 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


minds,  and  knew  not  what  to  do.  Knock  they  durst  not,  for  fear  of  the 
dog;  go  back  they  durst  not,  for  fear  the  Keeper  of  the  gate  should  espy 
them  as  they  so  went,  and  should  be  offended  with  them.  At  last  they 
thought  of  knocking  again,  and  knocked  more  vehemently  than  they  did  at 
first.  Then  said  the  Keeper  of  the  gate,  “Who  is  there?”  So  the  dog 
left  off  to  bark,  and  He  opened  unto  them. 

Then  Christiana  made  low  obeisance,  and  said,  “Let  not  our  Lord  be 
offended  with  His  handmaidens,  for  that  we  have  knocked  at  His  princely 
gate.” 

Then  said  the  Keeper,  “Whence  come  ye?  and  what  is  it  that  you  would 
have  ?” 

Christiana  answered,  “We  are  come  from  whence  Christian  did  come, 
and  upon  the  same  errand  as  he;  to  wit,  to  be,  if  it  shall  please  you, 
graciously  admitted  by  this  gate  into  the  way  that  leads  to  the  Celestial 
City.  And  I answer,  my  Lord,  in  the  next  place,  that  I am  Christiana,  once 
the  wife  of  Christian,  that  now  is  gotten  above." 

With  that  the  keeper  of  the  gate  did  marvel,  saying,  “What!  is  she  now 
become  a pilgrim,  that,  but  a while  ago,  abhorred  that  life?" 

Then  she  bowed  her  head,  and  said,  “Yes;  and  so  are  these  my  sweet 
babes  also.” 

Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  let  her  in,  and  said  also,  “Suffer  the 
little  children  to  come  unto  me;”  and  with  that  He  shut  up  the  gate.  This 
done,  He  called  to  a trumpeter  that  was  above,  over  the  gate,  to  entertain 
Christiana  with  shouting  and  sound  of  trumpet  for  joy.  So  he  obeyed, 
and  sounded,  and  filled  the  air  with  his  melodious  notes. 

Now,  all  this  while  poor  Mercy  did  stand  without,  trembling  and  crying, 
for  fear  that  she  was  rejected.  But  when  Christiana  had  got  admittance  for 
herself  and  her  boys,  then  she  began  to  make  intercession  for  Mercy. 

Chr.  And  she  said,  “My  Lord,  I have  a companion  of  mine  that 
stands  yet  without,  that  is  come  hither  upon  the  same  account  as  my- 
self ; one  that  is  much  dejected  in  her  mind,  for  that  she  comes,  as  she 
thinks,  without  sending  for;  whereas  I was  sent  to  by  my  husband’s  King 
to  come.” 

Now  Mercy  began  to  be  very  impatient,  for  each  minute  was 
Delays  make  as  long  to  her  as  an  hour;  wherefore  she  prevented  Christiana 
from  a fuller  interceding  for  her,  by  knocking  at  the  gate  her- 
fcrvent.  self.  And  she  knocked  then  so  loud  that  she  made  Christiana 


THE  KING'S  TRUMPETER. 


MERCY  AT  THE  GATE. 


221 


to  start.  Then  said  the  Keeper  of  the  gate,  “Who  is  there?"  And  said 
Christiana,  “It  is  my  friend.” 

So  He  opened  the  gate  and  looked  out;  but  Mercy  was  fallen  down 
without  in  a swoon,  for  she  fainted,  and  was  afraid  that  no  gate  would  be 
opened  to  her. 

Then  he  took'  her  by  the  hand,  and  said,  “ Damsel,  I bid  thee 
arise.” 

“Oh,  sir,”  said  she,  “I  am  faint:  there  is  scarce  life  left  in  me.” 

But  He  answered  that  “One  once  said,  ‘When  my  soul  fainted  within  me, 
I remembered  the  Lord;  and  my  prayer  came  in  unto  Thee,  into  Thy  holy 
temple.’  (Jonah  ii.  7.)  Fear  not,  but  stand  upon  thy  feet,  and  tell  me 
wherefore  thou  art  come.” 

Mer.  I am  come  for  that  unto  which  I was  never  invited,  as  my  friend 
Christiana  was.  Hers  was  from  the  King,  and  mine  was  but  from  her. 
Wherefore  I fear  I presume. 

Keep.  Did  she  desire  thee  to  come  with  her  to  this  place? 

Mer.  Yes;  and,  as  my  Lord  sees,  I am  come.  And  if  there  is  any  grace 
and  forgiveness  of  sins  to  spare,  I beseech  that  I,  Thy  poor  handmaiden, 
may  be  partaker  thereof. 

Then  he  took  her  again  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  gently  in,  and  said,  “I 
pray  for  all  them  that  believe  on  me,  by  what  means  soever  they  come  unto 
me."  Then  said  He  to  those  that  stood  by,  “ Fetch  something,  and  give  it 
to  Mercy  to  smell  on,  thereby  to  stay  her  fainting.”  So  they  fetched  her  a 
bundle  of  myrrh,  and  awhile  after  she  was  revived. 

And  now  was  Christiana  and  her  boys  and  Mercy  received  of  the  Lord 
at  the  head  of  the  way,  and  spoke  kindly  unto  by  Him.  Then  said  they 
yet  further  unto  Him,  “We  are  sorry  for  our  sins,  and  beg  of  our  Lord  His 
pardon  and  further  information  what  we  must  do.” 

“I  grant  pardon,"  said  He,  “by  word  and  deed:  by  word,  in  the  promise 
of  forgiveness;  by  deed,  in  the  way  I obtained  it.  Take  the  first  from  my 
lips  with  a kiss,  and  the  other  as  it  shall  be  revealed."  (Song  i.  2.;  John 
xx.  20.) 

Now,  I saw  in  my  dream,  that  He  spake  many  good  words  unto  them, 
whereby  they  were  greatly  gladded.  He  also  had  them  up  to  the  top  of 
the  gate,  and  showed  them  by  what  deed  they  were  saved ; and 
told  them  withal  that  that  sight  they  would  have  again  as  they  £hylst  crucJ’ 
went  along  the  way,  to  their  comfort.  off. 


222 


1HE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


So  He  left  them  awhile  in  a summer  parlour  below,  where  they  entered 
into  a talk  by  themselves;  and  thus  Christiana  began: 

“O  Lord,  how  glad  am  I that  we  are  got  in  hither!" 

Mer.  So  you  well  may;  but  I of  all  have  cause  to  leap  for  joy. 

Chr.  I thought  one  time  as  I stood  at  the  gate,  because  I knocked,  and 
none  did  answer,  that  all  our  labour  had  been  lost,  specially  when  that  ugly 
cur  made  such  a heavy  barking  against  us. 

Mer.  But  my  worst  fear  was  after  I saw  that  you  were  taken  into  His 
favour,  and  that  I was  left  behind.  Now,  thought  I,  it  is  fulfilled  which  is 
written,  “Two  women  shall  be  grinding  at  the  mill;  the  one  shall  be  taken, 
and  the  other  left.”  (Matt.  xxiv.  41.)  I had  much  ado  to  forbear  crying 
out,  “Undone!  undone!”  And  afraid  I was  to  knock  any  more:  but  when 
I looked  up  to  what  was  written  over  the  gate,  I took  courage.  I also 
thought  that  I must  either  knock  again  or  die;  so  I knocked,  but  I cannot 
tell  how,  for  my  spirit  now  struggled  betwixt  life  and  death. 

Chr.  Can  you  not  tell  how  you  knocked?  I am  sure  your  knocks  were 
so  earnest,  that  the  very  sound  of  them  made  me  start.  I thought  I never 
heard  such  knocking  in  all  my  life:  I thought  you  would  come  in  by  violent 
hands,  or  take  the  kingdom  by  storm.  (Matt.  xi.  12.) 

Mer.  Alas ! to  be  in  my  case,  who  that  so  was  could  but  have  done  so  ? 
You  saw  that  the  door  was  shut  upon  me,  and  that  there  was  a most  cruel 
dog  thereabout.  Who,  I say,  that  was  so  faint-hearted  as  I,  would  not 
have  knocked  with  all  their  might?  But,  pray,  what  said  my  Lord  to  my 
rudeness?  Was  He  not  angry  with  me? 

Chr.  When  He  heard  your  lumbering  noise,  He  gave  a 
wonderful  innocent  smile;  I believe  what  you  did  pleased 
Him  well  enough,  for  He  showed  no  sign  to  the  contrary. 
But  I marvel  in  my  heart  why  He  keeps  such  a dog:  had  I 
known  that  afore,  I should  not  have  had  heart  enough  to  have 
ventured  myself  in  this  manner.  But  now  we  are  in,  we  are 
in,  and  I am  glad  with  all  my  heart. 

Mer.  I will  ask,  if  you  please,  next  time  He  comes  down,  why  He 
keeps  such  a filthy  cur  in  His  yard.  I hope  He  will  not  take  it 
amiss. 

“Ay,  do,”  said  the  children,  “and  persuade  Him  to  hang  him,  for  we  are 
afraid  he  will  bite  us  when  we  go  hence.” 

So  at  last  He  came  down  to  them  again,  and  Mercy  fell  to  the  ground 


Christ 

pleased  with 
loud  and 
restless 
prayer. 


“Mercy  was  fallen  down  without  in  a swoon.” 


THE  ENEMY'S  DOG. 


225 


on  her  face  before  Him,  and  worshipped,  and  said,  “Let  my  Lord  accept 
the  sacrifice  of  praise  which  I now  offer  unto  Him  with  the  calves  of 
my  lips.” 

So  He  said  unto  her,  “Peace  be  to  thee;  stand  up.”  But  she  continued 
upon  her  face,  and  said,  “ Righteous  art  Thou,  O Lord,  when  I plead  with 
Thee;  yet  let  me  talk  with  Thee  of  Thy  judgments.  (Jer.  xii.  1.)  Where- 
fore dost  Thou  keep  so  cruel  a dog  in  Thy  yard,  at  the  sight  of  which  such 
women  and  children  as  we  are  ready  to  fly  from  the  gate  for 
fear?”  He  answered  and  said,  “That  dog  has  another  owner;  The  devil, 
he  also  is  kept  close  in  another  man’s  ground,  only  my 
pilgrims  hear  his  barking:  he  belongs  to  the  castle  which  you  see  there  at  a 
distance,  but  can  come  up  to  the  walls  of  this  place.  He  has  frighted  many 
an  honest  pilgrim  from  worse  to  better,  by  the  great  voice  of  his  roaring. 
Indeed,  he  that  owneth  him  doth  not  keep  him  out  of  any  good-will  to  me 
or  mine,  but  with  intent  to  keep  the  pilgrims  from  coming  to  me,  and  that 
they  may  be  afraid  to  come  and  knock  at  this  gate  for  entrance.  Some- 
times also  he  has  broken  out,  and  has  worried  some  that  I love;  but  I take 
all  at  present  patiently.  I also  give  my  pilgrims  timely  help,  so  that  they 
are  not  delivered  up  to  his  power,  to  do  with  them  what  his  doggish  nature 
would  prompt  him  to.  But  what!  my  purchased  one,  I trow,  hadst  thou 
known  even  so  much  beforehand,  thou  wouldst  not  have  been  afraid  of  a 
dog.  The  beggars  that  go  from  door  to  door  will,  rather  than  lose  a sup- 
posed alms,  run  the  hazard  of  the  bawling,  barking,  and  biting 
too,  of  a dog;  and  shall  a dog  in  another  man’s  yard,  a dog 
whose  barking  I turn  to  the  profit  of  pilgrims,  keep  any  one 
from  coming  to  me?  I deliver  them  from  the  lions,  their  dar- 
ling from  the  power  of  the  dog.”  (Psa.  xxxii.  20.) 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  “ I confess  my  ignorance:  I spake 
what  I understood  not:  I acknowledge  that  Thou  doest  all 
things  well.” 

Chr.  Then  Christiana  began  to  talk  of  their  journey,  and  to 
inquire  after  the  way. 

So  He  fed  them,  and  washed  their  feet,  and  set  them  in  the  way  of  His 
steps,  according  as  He  had  dealt  with  her  husband  before. 

So  I saw  in  my  dream  that  they  walked  on  in  their  way,  and  had  the 
weather  very  comfortable  to  them. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  sing,  saying: 


A check  to 
the  carnal 
fear  of  the 
pilgrims. 

Christians, 
when  wise 
enough,  ac- 
quiesce in  the 
wisdom  of 
their  Lord. 


226 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


“ Blessed  be  the  day  that  I began 
A pilgrim  for  to  be; 

And  blessed  also  be  the  man 
That  thereto  moved  me. 

“ T is  true,  ’t  was  long  ere  I began 
To  seek  to  live  for  ever; 

But  now  I run  fast  as  I can : — 

’T  is  better  late  than  never. 

“Our  tears  to  joy,  our  fears  to  faith, 
Are  turned,  as  we  see ; 

Thus  our  beginning  (as  one  saith) 
Shows  what  our  end  will  be.” 


Now,  there  was,  on  the  other  side  of 

the  wall  that  fenced  in  the  way  up  which 

Christiana  and  her  companions  were  to 

go,  a garden,  and  that  gar- 

The  de\  ll  s cjen  ]jejonoret[  to  him  whose 
garden.  o 

was  that  barking  dog,  of 
whom  mention  was  made  before.  And 
some  of  the  fruit-trees  that  grew  in  that 
garden  shot  their  branches  over  the 
wall ; and,  being  mellow,  they  that  found 
them  did  gather  them  up,  and  oft  eat 
of  them  to  their  hurt.  So  Christiana’s 
boys,  as  boys  are  apt  to  do,  being 
pleased  with  the  trees,  and  the  fruit  that 
did  hang  thereon,  did  plash*  them,  and 
began  to  eat.  Their  mother  did  also 
chide  them  for  so  doing;  but  still  the 
boys  went  on. 

the  ill  favoured  ones.  “Well,”  said  she,  “ my  sons,  you 

transgress,  for  that  fruit  is  none  of 
ours;”  but  she  did  not  know  that  it  did  belong  to  the  enemy:  I’ll  warrant 
you,  if  she  had,  she  would  have  been  ready  to  die  for  fear.  But  that 
passed,  and  they  went  on  their  way. 


* To  plash,  verb  act.,  or  to  bend ,plicr. — “ Dictionnaire  Royale  Frangais-Anglais  ct  Anglais- 
Francjais,”  par  A.  Boyer,  4to,  1729. 


“So  Christiana's  boys,  as  boys  are  apt  to  do,  being  pleased  with  the  trees,  and  the  fruit  that  did  hang 
thereon,  did  plash  them,  and  began  to  eat." 


THE  ILL-FAVOURED  ONES  MET  WITH. 


229 


Now,  by  that  they  were  gone  about  two  bowshots  from  the  place  that  led 
them  into  the  way,  they  espied  two  very  ill-favoured  ones  coming  down 
apace  to  meet  them.  With  that,  Christiana,  and  Mercy  her  friend,  covered 
themselves  with  their  veils,  and  so  kept  on  their  journey;  the  children  also 
went  on  before;  so  that,  at  last,  they  met  together.  Then  they  that  came 
down  to  meet  them  came  just  up  to  the  women,  as  if  they  would  embrace 
them;  but  Christiana  said,  “Stand  back,  or  go  peaceably  by,  as  you 
should.” 

Yet  these  two,  as  men  that  are  deaf,  regarded  not  Christiana’s  words,  but 
began  to  lay  hands  upon  them.  At  that,  Christiana,  waxing  very  wroth, 
spurned  at  them  with  her  feet.  Mercy  also,  as  well  as  she  could,  did  what 
she  could  to  shift  them.  Christiana  again  said  to  them,  “Stand  back,  and 
begone;  for  we  have  no  money  to  lose,  being  pilgrims,  as  you  see,  and  such, 
too,  as  live  upon  the  charity  of  our  friends.” 

Ill-favoured  One.  Then  said  one  of  the  two  men,  “We  make  no 
assault  upon  you  for  money,  but  are  come  out  to  tell  you  that,  if  you  will 
grant  one  small  request  which  we  shall  ask,  we  will  make  women  of  you 
for  ever.” 

Chr.  Now  Christiana,  imagining  what  they  should  mean,  made  answer 
again,  “We  will  neither  hear  nor  regard,  nor  yield  to  what  you  shall  ask. 
We  are  in  haste,  and  cannot  stay;  our  business  is  a business  of  life  or 
death.” 

So  again  she  and  her  companions  made  a fresh  essay  to  go  past  them; 
but  they  letted  them  in.  their  way. 

Ill-fav.  And  they  said,  “We  intend  no  hurt  to  your  lives;  it  is  another 
thing  we  would  have." 

Chr.  “Ay,”  quoth  Christiana,  “you  would  have  us  body  and  soul,  for  I 
know  it  is  for  that  you  are  come;  but  we  will  die  rather  upon  the  spot,  than 
to  suffer  ourselves  to  be  brought  into  such  snares  as  shall  hazard  our  well- 
being hereafter.”  And,  with  that,  they  both  shrieked  out,  and  cried,  “Mur- 
der! murder!”  and  so  put  -themselves  under  those  laws  that  are  provided 
for  the  protection  of  women.  (Dent.  xxii.  23 — 27.)  But  the  men  still 
made  their  approach  upon  them,  with  design  to  prevail  against  them. 
They  therefore  cried  out  again. 

Now,  they  being,  as  I said,  not  far  from  the  gate  in  at  which  they  came, 
their  voices  were  heard  from  where  they  were,  thither;  wherefore,  some  of 
the  house  came  out,  and,  knowing  it  was  Christiana’s  tongue,  they  made 


230 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


It  is  good  to  haste  to  her  relief.  But  by  that  they  were  got  within  sight  of 
we  -inf  When  them,  the  women  were  in  a very  great  scuffle;  the  children  also 
assaulted.  stood  crying  by.  Then  did  he  that  came  in  for  their  relief  call 
out  to  the  ruffians,  saying,  “What  is  that  thing  you  do? 
Would  you  make  my  Lord's  people  to  transgress?”  He  also  attempted  to 
take  them,  but  they  did  make  their  escape  over  the  wall  into  the  garden  of 
the  man  to  whom  the  great  dog  belonged ; so  the  dog  became  their  pro- 
tector. This  Reliever  then  came  up  to  the  women,  and  asked  them  how 
they  did. 

So  they  answered,  “We  thank  thy  Prince,  pretty  well,  only  we  have  been 
somewhat  affrighted:  we  thank  thee  also  for  that  thou  earnest  in  to  our 
help,  otherwise  we  had  been  overcome.” 

Reliever.  So,  after  a few  more  words,  this  Reliever  said  as  followeth: 
“I  marvelled  much  when  you  were  entertained  at  the  gate  above,  being  ye 
knew  that  ye  were  but  weak  women,  that  you  petitioned  not  the  Lord  for 
a conductor.  Then  might  you  have  avoided  these  troubles  and  dangers ; 
for  He  would  have  granted  you  one.” 

Chr.  “Alas!”  said  Christiana,  “we  were  taken  so  with  our  present 
blessing,  that  dangers  to  come  were  forgotten  by  us.  Besides, 
Mark  this!  who  could  have  thought  that,  so  near  the  King’s  palace,  there 
could  have  lurked  such  naughty  ones?  Indeed,  it  had  been 
well  for  us  had  we  asked  our  Lord  for  one;  but,  since  our  Lord  knewT  it 
would  be  for  our  profit,  I wonder  He  sent  not  one  along  with  us.” 

Rel.  It  is  not  always  necessary  to  grant  things  not  asked  for,  lest,  by  so 
doing,  they  become  of  little  esteem;  but  when  the  want  of  a 
We  lose  for  thing  is  felt,  it  then  comes  under,  in  the  eyes  of  him  that  feels 
ing  for.  it,  that  estimate  that  properly  is  its  due;  and  so,  consequently, 

it  will  be  thereafter  used.  Had  my  Lord  granted  you  a con- 
ductor, you  would  not  either  have  so  bewailed  that  oversight  of  yours,  in 
not  asking  for  one,  as  now  you  have  occasion  to  do.  So  all  things  work 
for  good,  and  tend  to  make  you  more  wary. 

Chr.  Shall  we  go  back  again  to  my  Lord,  and  confess  our  folly,  and 
ask  one? 

Rel.  Your  confession  of  your  folly  I will  present  Him  with.  To  go 
back  again  you  need  not;  for,  in  all  places  where  you  shall  come,  you  will 
find  no  want  at  all;  for,  in  every  one  of  my  Lord’s  lodgings,  which  He  has 
prepared  for  the  reception  of  1 1 is  pilgrims,  there  is  sufficient  to  furnish 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE. 


231 


them  against  all  attempts  whatsoever.  But,  as  I said,  he  will  be  inquired 
of  by  them,  to  do  it  for  them.  (Ezek.  xxxvi.  37.)  And ’t  is  a poor  thing 
that  is  not  worth  asking  for. 

When  he  had  thus  said,  he  went  back  to  his  place,  and  the  pilgrims  went 
on  their  way. 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  “What  a sudden  blank  is  here!  I made  account 
we  had  been  past  ail  danger,  and  that  we  should  never  see  sorrow 
more.” 

Chr.  “Thy  innocence,  my  sister,”  said  Christiana  to  Mercy,  “may  excuse 
thee  much ; but  as  for  me,  my  fault  is  so  much  the  greater,  for  that  I saw 
the  danger  before  I came  out  of  the  doors,  and  yet  did  not  provide  for  it 
when  provision  might  have  been  had.  I am,  therefore,  much  to  be 
blamed.” 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  “How  knew  you  this  before  you  came  from 
home?  Pray,  open  to  me  this  riddle.” 

Chr.  Why,  I will  tell  you.  Before  I set  foot  out  of  doors,  one  night,  as 
I lay  in  my  bed,  I had  a dream  about  this;  for  methought  I saw  two  men, 
as  like  these  as  ever  any  in  the  world  could  look,  stand  at  my  bed’s  feet, 
plotting  how  they  might  prevent  my  salvation.  I will  tell  you  their  very 
words.  They  said  (it  was  when  I was  in  my  troubles),  “What  shall  we  do 
with  this  woman?  for  she  cries  out  waking  and  sleeping  for  forgiveness:  if 
she  be  suffered  to  go  on  as  she  begins,  we  shall  lose  her  as  we  have  lost  her 
husband.”  This,  you  know,  might  have  made  me  take  heed,  and  have  pro- 
vided when  provision  might  have  been  had. 

Mer.  “Well,”  said  Mercy,  “as  by  this  neglect  we  have  an  Mercy  makes 
occasion  ministered  unto  us  to  behold  our  own  imperfections,  flieir  neglect, 
so  our  Lord  has  taken  occasion  thereby  to  make  manifest  the 
riches  of  His  grace;  for  He,  as  we  see,  has  followed  us  with  unasked  kind- 
ness, and  has  delivered  us  from  their  hands  that  were  stronger  than  we,  of 
His  mere  good  pleasure.” 

Thus,  now,  when  they  had  talked  away  a little  more  time,  they  drew  near 
to  a house  which  stood  in  the  way,  which  house  was  built  for  the  relief  of 
pilgrims,  as  you  will  find  more  fully  related  in  the  first  part  of  these  records 
of  the  Pilgrim’s  Progress.  So  they  drew  on  towards  the  house  (the  house 
of  the  Interpreter);  and,  when  they  came  to  the  door,  they  heard  a great 
talk  in  the  house.  Then  they  gave  ear,  and  heard,  as  they  thought, 
Christiana  mentioned  by  name;  for  you  must  know  that  there  went  along, 


232 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


even  before  her,  a talk  of  her  and  her  children’s  going  on  pilgrimage.  And 
this  was  the  more  pleasing  to  them,  because  they  had  heard  she  was  Chris- 
tian’s wife,  that  woman  who  was  some  time  ago  so  unwilling  to  hear  of 
going  on  pilgrimage.  Thus,  therefore,  they  stood  still,  and  heard  the  good 
people  within  commending  her,  who,  they  little  thought,  stood  at  the  door. 
At  last  Christiana  knocked,  as  she  had  done  at  the  gate  before.  Now,  when 
she  had  knocked,  there  came  to  the  door  a young  damsel,  and  opened  the 
door  and  looked ; and,  behold,  two  women  were  there. 

Dam.  Then  said  the  damsel  to  them, 
“With  whom  would  you  speak  in  this 
place?” 

Chr.  Christiana  answered,  “We  un- 
derstand that  this  is  a privileged  place 
for  those  that  are  become  pilgrims,  and 
we  now  at  this  door  are  such ; wherefore 
we  pray  that  we  may  be  partakers  of 
that  for  which  we  at  this  time  are  come; 
for  the  day,  as  thou  seest,  is  very  far 
spent,  and  we  are  loth  to-night  to  go 
any  farther.” 

Dam.  Pray,  what  may  I call  your 
name,  that  1 may  tell  it  to  my  lord 
within? 

Chr.  My  name  is  Christiana:  I was 
the  wife  of  that  pilgrim  that  some  years 
ago  did  travel  this  way;  and  these  be 
his  four  children.  This  maiden  also  is 
my  companion,  and  is  going  on  pil- 
grimage too. 

Innocent.  Then  Innocent  ran  in  (for  that  was  her  name),  and  said  to 
those  within,  “Can  you  think  who  is  at  the  door?  There  are  Christiana 
and  her  children,  and  her  companion,  all  waiting  for  entertainment  here.” 

Then  they  leaped  for  joy,  and  went  and  told  their  master.  So  he  came 
to  the  door,  and  looking  upon  her,  he  said,  “Art  thou  that  Christiana  whom 
Christian  the  good  man  left  behind  him,  when  he  betook  himself  to  a 
pilgrim’s  life?” 

Chr.  I am  that  woman  that  was  so  hard-hearted  as  to  slight  my  hus- 


INNOCENT. 


“A  man  that  could  look  no  way  but  downwards,  with  a muck-rake  in  his  hand.” 


RECEPTION  AT  THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE. 


235 


band’s  troubles,  and  then  left  him  to  go  on  his  journey  alone;  and  these  are 
his  four  children.  But  now  also  I am  come,  for  I am  convinced  that  no 
way  is  right  but  this. 

Inter.  Then  is  fulfilled  that  which  also  is  written  of  the  man  that  said 
to  his  son,  “Go,  work  to-day  in  my  vineyard;”  and  he  said  to  his  father,  “I 
will  not;”  but  afterwards  he  repented,  and  went.  (Matt.  xxi.  28,  29.) 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  “So  be  it:  Amen.  God  make  it  a true 
saying  upon  me,  and  grant  that  I may  be  found  at  the  last  of  Him  in 
peace,  without  spot  and  blameless! 

Inter.  But  why  standest  thou  thus  at  the  door?  Come  in,  thou 
daughter  of  Abraham.  We  were  talking  of  thee  but  now;  for  tidings  have 
come  to  us  before  how  thou  art  become  a pilgrim.  Come,  children,  come 
in ; come,  maiden,  come  in. 

So  he  had  them  all  into  the  house. 

So  when  they  were  within,  they  were  bidden  to  sit  down  and  rest  them; 
the  which  when  they  had  done,  those  that  attended  upon  the 
pilgrims  in  the  house  came  into  the  room  to  see  them.  And  old  saints 
one  smiled,  and  another  smiled,  and  they  all  smiled  for  joy  §lad  to  see 
that  Christiana  was  become,  a pilgrim.  They  also  looked  ones  walk  in 
upon  the  boys:  they  stroked  them  over  the  faces  with  the  hand,  Gods  ways, 
in  token  of  their  kind  reception  of  them;  they  also  carried  it 
lovingly  to  Mercy,  and  bid  them  all  welcome  into  their  master’s  house. 

After  awhile,  because  supper  was  not  ready,  the  Interpreter  took  them 
into  his  significant  rooms,  and  showed  them  what  Christian,  Christiana’s 
husband,  had  seen  some  time  before.  Here,  therefore,  they  saw  the  man 
in  the  cage,  the  man  and  his  dream,  the  man  that  cut  his  way  through  his 
enemies,  and  the  picture  of  the  biggest  of  them  all,  together  with  the  rest  of 
those  things  that  were  then  so  profitable  to  Christian. 

This  done,  and  after  those  things  had  been  somewhat  digested  by 
Christiana  and  her  company,  the  Interpreter  takes  them  apart  again,  and 
has  them  first  into  a room  where  was  a man  that  could  look  no  way  but 
downwards,  with  a muck-rake  in  his  hand.  There  stood  also  one  over 
his  head,  with  a celestial  crown  in  his  hand,  and  proffered  to  give 
him  that  crown  for  his  muck-rake;  but  the  man  did  neither  look  up  nor 
regard,  but  raked  to  himself  the  straws,  the  small  sticks,  and  the  dust  of 
the  floor. 

Then  said  Christiana,  “ I persuade  myself  that  I know  somewhat  the 


236 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


meaning  of  this;  for  this  is  a figure  of  a man  of  this  world.  Is  it  not,  good 
sir?” 

Inter.  “Thou  hast  said  the  right,"  said  he;  “and  his  muck-rake  doth 
show  his  carnal  mind.  And  whereas  thou  seest  him  rather  give  heed  to 
rake  up  straws  and  sticks,  and  the  dust  of  the  floor,  than  to  do  what  he 
says  that  calls  to  him  from  above  with  the  celestial  crown  in  his  hand;  it  is 
to  show  that  heaven  is  but  a fable  to  some,  and  that  things  here  are  counted 
the  only  things  substantial.  Now,  whereas  it  was  also  showed  thee  that 
the  man  could  look  no  way  but  downwards;  it  is  to  let  thee  know  that 
earthly  things,  when  they  are  with  power  upon  men’s  minds,  quite  carry 
their  hearts  away  from  God.” 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  “Oh,  deliver  me  from  this  muck-rake!” 

Inter.  “That  prayer,"  said  the  Interpreter,  “has  lain  by  till  it  is  almost 
rusty.  ‘Give  me  not  riches’  (Prov.  xxx.  8)  is  scarce  the  prayer  of  one  of 
ten  thousand.  Straws,  and  sticks,  and  dust,  with  most,  are  the  great  things 
now  looked  after.” 

With  that,  Mercy  and  Christiana  wept,  and  said,  “It  is,  alas!  too 
true.” 

When  the  Interpreter  had  showed  them  this,  he  had  them  into  the  very 
best  room  in  the  house;  a very  brave  room  it  was.  So  he  bid  them  look 
round  about,  and  see  if  they  could  find  anything  profitable  there.  Then 
they  looked  round  and  round;  for  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a very 
great  spider  on  the  wall,  and  that  they  overlooked. 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  “Sir,  I see  nothing.” 

But  Christiana  held  her  peace. 

Inter.  “But,”  said  the  Interpreter,  “look  again.” 

She  therefore  looked  again,  and  said,  “Here  is  not  anything  but  an  ugly 
spider,  who  hangs  by  her  hands  upon  the  wall.” 

Then  said  he,  “Is  there  but  one  spider  in  all  this  spacious  room ?” 

Then  the  water  stood  in  Christiana’s  eyes,  for  she  was  a woman  quick  of 
apprehension;  and  she  said,  “Yes,  my  lord;  there  is  here  more  than  one; 
yea,  and  spiders  whose  venom  is  far  more  destructive  than  that  which  is 
in  her.” 

The  Interpreter  then  looked  pleasantly  upon  her,  and  said,  “Thou  hast 
said  the  truth.” 

This  made  Mercy  blush  and  the  boys  to  cover  their  faces;  for  they  all 
began  now  to  understand  the  riddle. 


THE  INTERPRETER'S  ALLEGORIES. 


237 


Then  said  the  Interpreter  again,  “The  spider  taketh  hold  with  her  hands 
(as  you  see),  and  is  in  king’s  palaces.  (Prov.  xxx.  28.)  And  wherefore  is 
this  recorded,  but  to  show  you  that,  how  full  of  the  venom  of  sin  soever 
you  be,  yet  you  may,  by  the  hand  of  faith,  lay  hold  of  and  dwell  in  the  best 
room  that  belongs  to  the  King’s  house  above.” 

Chr.  “I  thought,”  said  Christiana,  “of  something  of  this;  but  I could 
not  imagine  it  all.  I thought  that  vve  were  like  spiders,  and  that  we  looked 
like  ugly  creatures,  in  what  fine  rooms  soever  we  were:  but  that  by  this 
spider,  this  venomous  and  ill-favoured  creature,  we  were  to  learn  how  to 
act  faith,  that  came  not  into  my  mind;  and  yet  she  has  taken  hold  with  her 
hands,  and,  as  I see,  dwelleth  in  the  best  room  in  the  house.  God  has 
made  nothing  in  vain.” 

Then  they  seemed  all  to  be  glad,  but  the  water  stood  in  their  eyes;  yet 
they  looked  one  upon  another,  and  also  bowed  before  the  Interpreter. 

He  had  them  then  into  another  room,  where  were  a hen  and  chickens, 
and  bid  them  observe  awhile.  So  one  of  the  chickens  went  to  the  trough 
to  drink;  and  every  time  she  drank,  she  lifted  up  her  head  and  her  eyes 
toward  heaven.  “See,”  said  he,  “what  this  little  chick  doth;  and  learn  of 
her  to  acknowledge  whence  your  mercies  come,  by  receiving  them  with 
looking  up.  Yet  again,”  said  he,  “observe  and  look.” 

So  they  gave  heed,  and  perceived  that  the  hen  did  walk  in  a fourfold 
method  towards  her  chickens.  First,  she  had  a common  call,  and  that  she 
hath  all  day  long.  Secondly,  she  had  a special  call,  and  that  she  had  but 
sometimes.  Thirdly,  she  had  a brooding  note.  (Matt,  xxiii.  37.)  And, 
fourthly,  she  had  an  outcry. 

Inter.  “Now,”  said  he,  “compare  this  hen  to  your  King,  and  these 
chickens  to  His  obedient  ones:  for,  answerable  to  her,  He  Himself  hath 
His  methods  which  He  walketh  in  toward  His  people.  By  His  common 
call,  He  gives  nothing;  by  His  special  call,  He  always  has  something  to 
give;  He  also  has  a brooding  voice  for  them  that  are  under  His  wing;  and 
He  hath  an  outcry,  to  give  the  alarm  when  He  seeth  the  enemy  come.  I 
chose,  my  darlings,  to  lead  you  into  the  room  where  such  things  are,  be- 
cause you  are  women,  and  they  are  easy  for  you.” 

Chr.  “And,  sir,”  said  Christiana,  “pray  let  us  see  some  more.” 

So  he  had  them  into  the  slaughter-house,  where  the  butcher  was  killing 
a sheep;  and,  behold,  the  sheep  was  quiet,  and  took  her  death  patiently. 
Then  said  the  Interpreter,  “You  must  learn  of  this  sheep  to  suffer,  and  to 


238 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


put  up  with  wrongs  without  murmurings  and  complaints.  Behold  how 
quietly  she  takes  her  death;  and,  without  objecting,  she  suffereth  her  skin 
to  be  pulled  over  her  ears.  Your  King  doth  call  you  His  sheep.” 

After  this,  he  led  them  into  his  garden,  where  was  great  variety  of 
flowers;  and  he  said,  “Do  you  see  all  these?”  So  Christiana  said,  “Yes.” 
Then  said  he  again,  “Behold,  the  flowers  are  diverse  in  stature,  in  quality, 
and  colour,  and  smell,  and  virtue,  and  some  are  better  than  some;  also, 
where  the  gardener  has  set  them,  there  they  stand,  and  quarrel  not  one 
with  another.” 

Again,  he  had  them  into  his  field,  which  he  had  sowed  with  wheat  and 
corn;  but  when  they  beheld,  the  tops  of  all  were  cut  off,  and  only  the  straw 
remained.  He  said  again,  “This  ground  was  dunged,  and  ploughed,  and 
sowed;  but  what  shall  we  do  with  the  crop?”  Then  said  Christiana,  “Burn 
some,  and  make  muck  of  the  rest.”  Then  said  the  Interpreter  again,  “Fruit, 
you  see,  is  that  thing  you  look  for;  and,  for  want  of  that,  you  condemn  it  to 
the  fire,  and  to  be  trodden  under  foot  of  men.  Beware  that  in  this  you 
condemn  not  yourselves.” 

Then,  as  they  were  coming  in  from  abroad,  they  espied  a little  robin  with 
a great  spider  in  his  mouth.  So  the  Interpreter  said,  “Look  here.”  So 
they  looked,  and  Mercy  wondered;  but  Christiana  said,  “What  a dispar- 
agement is  it  to  such  a pretty  little  bird  as  the  robin-redbreast  is;  he  being 
also  a bird  above  many,  that  loveth  to  maintain  a kind  of  sociableness  with 
man!  I had  thought  they  had  lived  upon  crumbs  of  bread,  or  upon  other 
such  harmless  matter.  I like  him  worse  than  I did.” 

The  Interpreter  then  replied,  “This  robin  is  an  emblem  very  apt,  to  set 
forth  some  professors  by;  for  to  sight  they  are  as  this  robin,  pretty  of  note, 
colour,  and  carriage.  They  seem  also  to  have  a very  great  love  for 
professors  that  are  sincere;  and  above  all  other  to  desire  to  sociate  with 
them,  and  to  be  in  their  company,  as  if  they  could  live  upon  the  good  man's 
crumbs.  They  pretend,  also,  that  therefore  it  is  that  they  frequent  the 
house  of  the  godly  and  the  appointments  of  the  Lord;  but,  when  they  are 
by  themselves,  as  the  robin,  they  can  catch  and  gobble  up  spiders;  they  can 
change  their  diet,  drink  iniquity,  and  swallow  down  sin  like  water.” 

So,  when  they  were  come  again  into  the  house,  because 
Pray,  and  you  supper  as  yet  was  not  ready,  Christiana  again  desired  that  the 
whichyeVlies  Interpreter  would  either  show,  or  tell  of,  some  other  things 
unrevealed.  that  were  profitable. 


ENTERTAINED  BY  INTERPRETER. 


239 


Then  the  Interpreter  began,  and  said,  “The  fatter  the  sow  is,  the  more 
she  desires  the  mire;  the  fatter  the  ox  is,  the  more  gamesomely  he  goes  to 
the  slaughter;  and  the  more  healthy  the  lusty  man  is,  the  more  prone  he  is 
unto  evil.  There  is  a desire  in  women  to  go  neat  and  fine;  and  it  is  a 
comely  thing  to  be  adorned  with  that  which  in  God’s  sight  is  of  great  price. 
T is  easier  watching  a night  or  two  than  to  sit  up  a whole  year  together; 
so ’t  is  easier  for  one  to  begin  to  profess  well  than  to  hold  out  as  he  should 
to  the  end.  Every  shipmaster,  when  in  a storm,  will  willingly  cast  that 
overboard  which  is  of  the  smallest  value  in  the  vessel;  but  who  will  throw 
the  best  out  first?  None  but  he  that  feareth  not  God.  One  leak  will  sink 
a ship,  and  one  sin  will  destroy  a sinner.  He  that  forgets  his  friend  is 
ungrateful  unto  him;  but  he  that  forgets  his  Saviour  is  unmerciful  to  him- 
self. He  that  lives  in  sin,  and  looks  for  happiness  hereafter,  is  like  him 
that  soweth  cockle,  and  thinks  to  fill  his  barn  with  wheat  or  barley.  If  a 
man  would  live  well,  let  him  fetch  his  last  day  to  him,  and  make  it  always 
his  company-keeper.  Whispering,  and  change  of  thoughts,  prove  that  sin 
is  in  the  world.  If  the  world,  which  God  sets  light  by,  is  counted  a thing 
of  that  worth  with  men,  what  is  heaven,  that  God  commendeth!  If  the  life 
that  is  attended  with  so  many  troubles  is  so  loth  to  be  let  go  by  us,  what  is 
the  life  above!  Everybody  will  cry  up  the  goodness  of  men;  but  who  is 
there  that  is,  as  he  should  be,  affected  with  the  goodness  of  God?  We 
seldom  sit  down  to  meat,  but  we  eat  and  leave;  so  there  are  in  Jesus  Christ 
more  merit  and  righteousness  than  the  whole  world  has  need  of.” 

When  the  Interpreter  had  done,  he  takes  them  out  into  his  garden  again, 
and  had  them  to  a tree,  whose  inside  was  all  rotten  and  gone,  and  yet  it 
grew  and  had  leaves. 

Then  said  Mercy,  “What  means  this?” 

“This  tree,”  said  he,  “whose  outside  is  fair,  and  whose  inside  is  rotten,  is 
that  to  which  many  may  be  compared  that  are  in  the  garden  of  God,  who 
with  their  mouths  speak  high  in  behalf  of  God,  but  indeed  will  do  nothing 
for  Him;  whose  leaves  are  fair,  but  their  heart  good  for  nothing  but  to  be 
tinder  for  the  devil’s  tinder-box.” 

Now  supper  was  ready,  the  table  spread,  and  all  things  set  on  the  board; 
so  they  sat  down,  and  did  eat  when  one  had  given  thanks.  And  the 
Interpreter  did  usually  entertain  those  that  lodged  with  him  with  music  at 
meals;  so  the  minstrels  played.  There  was  also  one  that  did  sing,  and  a 
very  fine  voice  he  had.  His  song  was  this: 


240 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


“The  Lord  is  only  my  support, 
And  He  that  doth  me  feed; 
How  can  I then  want  anything 
Whereof  I stand  in  need  ? ” 


When  the  song  and  music  were  ended,  the  Interpreter  asked  Christiana 
what  it  was  that  first  did  move  her  to  betake  herself  to  a pilgrim's  life. 
Christiana  answered,  “ First,  the  loss  of  my  husband  came  into  my  mind,  at 
which  I was  heartily  grieved ; but  all  that  was  but  natural  affection.  Then, 
after  that,  came  the  troubles  and  pilgrimages  of  my  husband  into  my  mind, 
and  also  how  like  a churl  I had  carried  it  to  him  as  to  that.  So  guilt  took 
hold  of  my  mind,  and  would  have  drawn  me  into  the  pond,  but  that, 
opportunely,  I had  a dream  of  the  well-being  of  my  husband,  and  a letter 
sent  by  the  King  of  that  country  where  my  husband  dwells,  to  come  to 
him.  The  dream  and  the  letter  together  so  wrought  upon  my  mind,  that 
they  forced  me  to  this  way.” 

Inter.  But  met  you  with  no  opposition  afore  you  set  out  of  doors? 

Chr.  Yes,  a neighbour  of  mine,  one  Mrs.  Timorous:  she  was  akin  to  him 
that  would  have  persuaded  my  husband  to  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions. 
She  all-to-be-fooled  me  for,  as  she  called  it,  my  intended  desperate  adven- 
ture; she  also  urged  what  she  could  to  dishearten  me  from  it — the  hardship 
and  troubles  that  my  husband  met  with  in  the  way;  but  all  this  I got  over 
pretty  well.  But  a dream  that  I had  of  two  ill-looked  ones,  that  I thought 
did  plot  how  to  make  me  miscarry  in  my  journey,  that  hath  troubled  me 
much:  yea,  it  still  runs  in  my  mind,  and  makes  me  afraid  of  every  one  that 
I meet,  lest  they  should  meet  me  to  do  me  a mischief,  and  to  turn  me  out 
of  my  way.  Yea,  I may  tell  my  Lord,  though  I would  not  have  everybody 
know  it,  that,  between  this  and  the  gate  by  which  we  got  into  the  way,  we 
were  both  so  sorely  assaulted  that  we  were  made  to  cry  out  “murder;”  and 
the  two  that  made  this  assault  upon  us  were  like  the  two  that  I saw  in  my 
dream. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter,  “Thy  beginning  is  good;  thy  latter  end  shall 
greatly  increase.”  So  he  addressed  himself  to  Mercy,  and  said  unto  her, 
“And  what  moved  thee  to  come  hither,  sweetheart?” 

Then  Mercy  blushed  and  trembled,  and  for  awhile  continued  silent. 

Inter.  Then  said  he,  “ Be  not  afraid;  only  believe,  and  speak  thy  mind.” 

Mer.  So  she  began,  and  said,  “Truly,  sir,  my  want  of  experience  is  that 


DISCOURSE  AT  SUPPER. 


241 


which  makes  me  covet  to  be  in  silence,  and  that  also  that  fills  me  with  fears 
of  coming  short  at  last.  I cannot  tell  of  visions  and  dreams,  as  my  friend 
Christiana  can,  nor  know  I what  it  is  to  mourn  for  my  refusing  the  counsel 
of  those  that  were  good  relations.” 

Inter.  What  was  it,  then,  dear  heart,  that  hath  prevailed  with  thee  to  do 
as  thou  hast  done? 

Mer.  Why,  when  our  friend  here  was  packing  up  to  be  gone  from  our 
town,  I and  another  went  accidentally  to  see  her.  So  we  knocked  at  the 
door  and  went  in.  When  we  were  within,  and  seeing  what  she  was  doing, 
we  asked  her  what  was  her  meaning.  She  said  she  was  sent  for  to  go  to 
her  husband;  and  then  she  up  and  told  us  how  she  had  seen  him  in  a 
dream,  dwelling  in  a curious  place,  among  immortals,  wearing  a crown, 
playing  upon  a harp,  eating  and  drinking  at  his  Prince’s  table,  and  singing 
praises  to  Him  for  bringing  him  thither,  etc.  Now,  methought  while  she 
was  telling  these  things  unto  us,  my  heart  burned  within  me.  And  I said 
in  my  heart,  If  this  be  true,  I will  leave  my  father  and  my  mother,  and  the 
land  of  my  nativity,  and  will,  if  I may,  go  along  with  Christiana.  So  I asked 
her  further  of  the  truth  of  these  things,  and  if  she  would  let  me  go  with 
her;  for  I saw  now  that  there  was  no  dwelling  but  with  the  danger  of  ruin 
any  longer  in  our  town.  But  yet  I came  away  with  a heavy  heart;  not  for 
that  I was  unwilling  to  come  away,  but  for  that  so  many  of  my  relations 
were  left  behind.  And  I am  come  with  all  the  desire  of  my  heart,  and  will 
go,  if  I may,  with  Christiana,  unto  her  husband  and  his  King. 

Inter.  Thy  setting  out  is  good,  for  thou  hast  given  credit  to  the  truth: 
thou  art  a Ruth,  who  did,  for  the  love  she  bare  to  Naomi  and  to  the  Lord 
her  God,  leave  father  and  mother,  and  the  land  of  her  nativity,  to  come  out 
and  go  with  a people  that  she  knew  not  heretofore.  The  Lord  recompense 
thy  work,  and  a full  reward  be  given  thee  of  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  under 
whose  wings  thou  art  come  to  trust!  (Ruth  ii.  1 1,  12.) 

Now  supper  was  ended,  and  preparation  was  made  for  bed : the  women 
were  laid  singly  alone,  and  the  boys  by  themselves.  Now,  when  Mercy 
was  in  bed,  she  could  not  sleep  for  joy,  for  that  now  her  doubts  of 
missing  at  last  were  removed  further  from  her  than  ever  they  were  before. 
So  she  lay  blessing  and  praising  God,  who  had  had  such  favour  for  her. 

In  the  morning  they  arose  with  the  sun,  and  prepared  them- 
selves for  their  departure;  but  the  Interpreter  would  have  them  riie  bflth  of 
...  1 -ii  1 r sanctinca- 

tarry  awhile:  “For,”  said  he,  “you  must  orderly  go  from  tion. 


242 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


hence.”  Then  said  he  to  the  damsel  that  first  opened  to  them,  “Take  them 
and  have  them  into  the  garden,  to  the  bath,  and  there  wash  them,  and  make 
them  clean  from  the  soil  which  they  have  gathered  by  travelling.” 

Then  Innocent  the  damsel  took  them  and  had  them  into  the  garden,  and 
brought  them  to  the  bath;  so  she  told  them  that  they  must  wash  and  be 
clean,  for  so  her  master  would  have  the  women  to  do  that  called  at  his 
house  as  they  were  going  on  pilgrimage.  Then  they  went  in  and  washed, 
yea,  they  and  the  boys  and  all;  and  they  came  out  of  that  bath,  not  only 
sweet  and  clean,  but  also  much  enlivened,  and  strengthened  in  their  joints. 
So,  when  they  came  in,  they  looked  fairer  a deal  than  when  they  went  out 
to  the  washing. 

When  they  were  returned  out  of  the  garden  from  the  bath,  the  Inter- 
preter took  them,  and  looked  upon  them,  and  said  unto  them,  “Fair  as  the 
moon.”  Then  he  called  for  the  seal  wherewith  they  used  to  be  sealed  that 
were  washed  in  this  bath.  So  the  seal  was  brought,  and  he  set  his  mark 
upon  them,  that  they  might  be  known  in  the  places  whither  they  were  yet 
to  go.  Now,  the  seal  was  the  contents  and  sum  of  the  passover  which  the 
children  of  Israel  did  eat  (Exod.  xiii.  8 — io)  when  they  came  out  of  the 
land  of  Egypt;  and  the  mark  was  set  between  their  eyes.  This  seal  added 
greatly  to  their  beauty,  for  it  was  an  ornament  to  their  faces.  It  also  added 
to  their  gravity,  and  made  their  countenances  more  like  those  of  angels. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again  to  the  damsel  that  waited  upon  these 
women,  “Go  into  the  vestry,  and  fetch  out  garments  for  these  people.”  So 
she  went  and  fetched  out  white  raiment,  and  laid  it  down  before  him ; so  he 
commanded  them  to  put  it  on:  it  was  fine  linen,  white  and 
Humility  clean.  When  the  women  were  thus  adorned,  they  seemed  to 
be  a terror  one  to  the  other,  for  that  they  could  not  sec  that 
glory  each  one  had  in  herself,  which  they  could  see  in  each  other.  Now, 
therefore,  they  began  to  esteem  each  other  better  than  themselves.  For 
“You  are  fairer  than  I am,”  said  one;  and  “You  are  more  comely  than  I 
am,”  said  another.  The  children  also  stood  amazed,  to  see  into  what 
fashion  they  were  brought. 

The  Interpreter  then  called  for  a man-servant  of  his,  one  Great-heart, 
and  bid  him  take  sword,  and  helmet,  and  shield;  and  “Take  these  my 
daughters,”  said  he,  “and  conduct  them  to  the  house  called  Beautiful,  at 
which  place  they  will  rest  next.”  So  he  took  his  weapons,  and  went  before 
them;  and  the  Interpreter  said,  “God  speed!”  Those  also  that  belonged 


MR.  GREAT-HEART. 


CHRISTIAN  RELIEVED  OF  HIS  BURDEN. 


245 


to  the  family  sent  them  away  with  many  a good  wish.  So  they  went  on 
their  way  and  sang: 

“This  place  hath  been  our  second  stage: 

Here  we  have  heard  and  seen 
Those  good  things  that  from  age  to  age 
To  others  hid  have  been. 

The  Dunghill-raker,  Spider,  Hen, 

The  Chicken,  too,  to  me 
Have  taught  a lesson : let  me  then 
Conformed  to  it  be. 

“The  Butcher,  Garden,  and  the  Field, 

The  Robin  and  his  bait, 

Also  the  Rotten  Tree,  doth  yield 
Me  argument  of  weight: 

To  move  me  for  to  watch  and  pray, 

To  strive  to  be  sincere, 

To  take  my  cross  up  day  by  day, 

And  serve  the  Lord  with  fear.” 


Now,  I saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on,  and  Great-heart  betore  them. 
So  they  went,  and  came  to  the  place  where  Christian’s  burden  fell  off  his 
back  and  tumbled  into  a sepulchre.  Here,  then,  they  made  a pause,  and 
here  also  they  blessed  God.  “Now,”  said  Christiana,  “comes  to  my  mind 
what  was  said  to  us  at  the  gate,  to  wit,  that  we  should  have  pardon  by 
word  and  deed:  by  word,  that  is,  by  the  promise;  by  deed,  to  wit,  in  the 
way  it  was  obtained.  What  the  promise  is,  of  that  I know  something;  but 
what  it  is  to  have  pardon  by  deed,  or  in  the  way  that  it  was  obtained,  Mr. 
Great-heart,  I suppose  you  know;  wherefore,  if  you  please,  let  us  hear  you 
discourse  thereof.” 

Great.  Pardon  by  the  deed  done,  is  pardon  obtained  by 
some  one  for  another  that  hath  need  thereof;  not  by  the  person 
pardoned,  but  in  the  way,  saith  another,  in  which  I have 
obtained  it.  So  then,  to  speak  to  the  question  more  at  large, 
the  pardon  that  you,  and  Mercy,  and  these  boys  have  obtained, 
was  obtained  by  another;  to  wit,  by  Him  that  let  you  in  at  the 
gate.  And  He  hath  obtained  it  in  this  double  way:  He  has 
performed  righteousness  to  cover  you,  and  spilt  His  blood  to  wash  you  in. 

Chr.  But  if  He  parts  with  His  righteousness  to  us,  what  will  He  have 
for  Himself? 


A comment 
upon  what 
was  said  at 
the  gate,  or  a 
discourse  of 
our  being 
justified  by 
Christ. 


246 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Great.  He  has  more  righteousness  than  you  have  need  of,  or  than  He 
needeth  Himself. 

Chr.  Pray  make  that  appear. 

Great.  With  all  my  heart:  but  first  I must  premise,  that  He  of  whom 
we  are  now  about  to  speak  is  one  that  has  not  His  fellow.  He  has  two 
natures  in  one  person,  plain  to  be  distinguished,  impossible  to  be  divided. 
Unto  each  of  these  natures  a righteousness  belongeth,  and  each  righteous- 
ness is  essential  to  that  nature;  so  that  one  may  as  easily  cause  the  nature 
to  be  extinct,  as  to  separate  its  justice  or  righteousness  from  it.  Of  these 
righteousnesses,  therefore,  we  are  not  made  partakers  so  that  they,  or  any 
of  them,  should  be  put  upon  us  that  we  might  be  made  just,  and  live 
thereby.  Besides  these,  there  is  a righteousness  which  this  Person  has,  as 
these  two  natures  are  joined  in  one.  And  this  is  not  the  righteousness  of 
the  Godhead  as  distinguished  from  the  manhood,  nor  the  righteousness  of 
the  manhood  as  distinguished  from  the  Godhead;  but  a righteousness 
which  standeth  in  the  union  of  both  natures,  and  may  properly  be  called 
the  righteousness  that  is  essential  to  His  being  prepared  of  God  to  the 
capacity  of  the  mediatory  office,  which  He  was  to  be  entrusted  with.  If 
He  parts  with  His  first  righteousness,  He  parts  with  His  Godhead;  if  He 
parts  with  His  second  righteousness,  He  parts  with  the  purity  of  His  man- 
hood; if  He  parts  with  His  third,  He  parts  with  that  perfection  that 
capacitates  Him  for  the  office  of  mediation.  He  has,  therefore,  another 
righteousness,  which  standeth  in  performance  or  obedience  to  a revealed 
will;  and  that  is  it  that  He  puts  upon  sinners,  and  that  by  which  their  sins 
are  covered.  Wherefore  He  saith,  “As  by  one  man’s  disobedience  many 
were  made  sinners,  so,  by  the  obedience  of  One  shall  many  be  made 
righteous.”  (Rom.  v.  19.) 

Chr.  But  are  the  other  righteousnesses  of  no  use  to  us? 

Great.  Yes;  for  though  they  are  essential  to  His  natures  and  office,  and 
so  cannot  be  communicated  to  another,  yet  it  is  by  virtue  of  them  that  the 
righteousness  that  justifies  is  for  that  purpose  efficacious.  The  righteous- 
ness of  His  Godhead  gives  virtue  to  His  obedience;  the  righteousness  ot 
His  manhood  giveth  capability  to  His  obedience  to  justify;  and  the 
righteousness  that  standeth  in  the  union  of  these  two  natures  to  1 1 is  office, 
giveth  authority  to  that  righteousness  to  do  the  work  for  which  it  was 
ordained. 

So,  then,  here  is  a righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God,  has  no  need  of;  for 


GREAT-HEART  DISCOURSES  BY  THE  WAY. 


24  7 


He  is  God  without  it.  Here  is  a righteousness  that  Christ,  as  man,  has  no 
need  of  to  make  Him  so;  for  He  is  perfect  man  without  it.  Again:  there 
is  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God-man,  has  no  need  of;  for  He  is  per- 
fectly so  without  it.  Here,  then,  is  a righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God  and 
as  God-man,  has  no  need  of  with  reference  to  Himself,  and  therefore  He 
can  spare  it;  a justifying  righteousness,  that  He  for  Himself  wanteth  not, 
and  therefore  He  giveth  it  away.  Hence  it  is  called  the  gift  of  righteous- 
ness. (Rom.  v.  17.)  This  righteousness,  since  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord  has 
made  Himself  under  the  law,  must  be  given  away;  for  the  law  doth  not 
only  bind  him  that  is  under  it  to  do  justly,  but  to  use  charity:  wherefore  he 
must,  or  ought  by  law,  if  he  hath  two  coats,  to  give  one  to  him  that  hath 
none.  Now,  our  Lord  indeed  hath  two  coats,  one  for  Himself  and  one  to 
spare;  wherefore  He  freely  bestows  one  upon  those  that  have  none.  And 
thus,  Christiana  and  Mercy,  and  the  rest  of  you  that  are  here,  doth  your 
pardon  come  by  deed,  or  by  the  work  of  another  man.  Your  Lord  Christ 
is  He  that  worked,  and  has  given  away  what  He  wrought  for  to  the  next 
poor  beggar  He  meets. 

But  again:  in  order  to  pardon  by  deed,  there  must  something  be  paid  to 
God  as  a price,  as  well  as  something  prepared  to  cover  us  withal.  Sin  has 
delivered  us  up  to  the  just  curse  of  a righteous  law.  Now,  from  this  curse 
we  must  be  justified  by  way  of  redemption,  a price  being  paid  for  the 
harms  we  have  done ; and  this  is  by  the  blood  of  your  Lord,  who  came  and 
stood  in  your  place  and  stead,  and  died  your  death  for  your  transgressions. 
Thus  has  He  ransomed  you  from  your  transgressions  by  blood,  and 
covered  your  polluted  and  deformed  souls  with  righteousness  (Rom.  iv. 
24),  for  the  sake  of  which  God  passeth  by  you,  and  will  not  hurt  you  when 
He  comes  to  judge  the  world.  (Gal.  iii.  13.) 

Chr.  This  is  brave!  Now  I see  that  there  was  something  to  be  learnt 
by  our  being  pardoned  by  word  and  deed.  Good  Mercy,  let  us  labour  to 
keep  this  in  mind;  and,  my  children,  do  you  remember  it  also.  But,  sir, 
was  not  this  it  that  made  my  good  Christian’s  burden  fall  from  off  his 
shoulders,  and  that  made  him  give  three  leaps  for  joy? 

Great.  Yes,  it  was  the  belief  of  this  that  cut  off  those  strings  that  could 
not  be  cut  by  other  means;  and  it  was  to  give  him  proof  of  the  virtue  of 
this  that  he  was  suffered  to  carry  his  burden  to  the  Cross. 

Chr.  I thought  so;  for  though  my  heart  was  lightsome  and  joyous 
before,  yet  it  is  ten  times  more  lightsome  and  joyous  now.  And  I am  per- 


248 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


How  affec- 
tion to  Christ 
is  begot  in 
the  soul. 


suaded  by  what  I have  felt,  though  I have  felt  but  little  as  yet,  that,  if  the 
most  burdened  man  in  the  world  was  here,  and  did  see  and  believe  as  I 
now  do,  it  would  make  his  heart  merry  and  blithe. 

Great.  There  is  not  only  comfort  and  the  ease  of  a burden  brought  to 
us  by  the  sight  and  consideration  of  these,  but  an  endeared 
affection  begot  in  us  by  it;  for  who  can,  if  he  doth  but  once 
think  that  pardon  comes,  not  only  by  promise,  but  thus,  but  be 
affected  with  the  way  and  means  of  his  redemption,  and  so 
with  the  Man  that  hath  wrought  it  for  him? 

Chr.  True:  methinks  it  makes  my  heart  bleed,  to  think  that  He  should 
bleed  for  me.  Oh,  Thou  loving  One!  Oh,  Thou  blessed  One!  Thou 
deservest  to  have  me:  Thou  hast  bought  me.  Thou  deservest  to  have  me 
all:  Thou  hast  paid  for  me  ten  thousand  times  more  than  I am  worth.  No 
marvel  that  this  made  the  water  stand  in  my  husband’s  eyes,  and  that  it 
made  him  trudge  so  nimbly  on.  I am  persuaded  he  wished  me  with  him ; 
but,  vile  wretch  that  I was!  I let  him  come  all  alone.  Oh,  Mercy,  that  thy 
father  and  mother  were  here!  yea,  and  Mrs.  Timorous  also!  Nay,  I wish 
now  with  all  my  heart  that  here  was  Madam  Wanton  too.  Surely,  surely, 
their  hearts  would  be  affected;  nor  could  the  fear  of  the  one,  nor  the  pow- 
erful lusts  of  the  other,  prevail  with  them  to  go  home  again,  and  refuse  to 
become  good  pilgrims. 

Great.  You  speak  now  in  the  warmth  of  your  affections:  will  it,  think 
you,  be  always  thus  with  you?  Besides,  this  is  not  communi- 
cated to  every  one,  nor  to  every  one  that  did  see  your  Jesus 
bleed.  There  were  that  stood  by,  and  that  saw  the  blood  run 
from  His  heart  to  the  ground,  and  yet  were  so  far  off  this,  that 
instead  of  lamenting,  they  laughed  at  Him,  and  instead  of 
becoming  His  disciples,  did  harden  their  hearts  against  Him. 
So  that  all  that  you  have,  my  daughters,  you  have  by  a peculiar 
impression  made  by  a divine  contemplating  upon  what  I have  spoken  to 
you.  Remember  that  't  was  told  you,  that  the  hen  by  her  common  call 
gives  no  meat  to  her  chickens.  This  you  have,  therefore,  by  a special 


To  be  affect- 
ed with 
Christ,  and 
with  what 
He  has  done, 
is  a thing 
special. 


grace. 

Now,  I saw  still  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  till  they  were  come  to 
the  place  that  Simple,  and  Sloth,  and  Presumption  lay  and  slept  in,  when 
Christian  went  by  on  pilgrimage;  and,  behold,  they  were  hanged  up  in  irons 
a little  way  off  on  the  other  side. 


SOME  OF  THOSE  WHO  WERE  TURNED  OUT  OF  THE  WAV. 


SLEEPY-HEAD. 


GREAT-HEART  DISCOURSES  BY  THE  WAY. 


251 


Mer.  Then  said  Mercy  to  him  that  was  their  guide  and  conductor, 
“What  are  those  three  men?  and  for  what  are  they  hanged  there?” 

Great.  These  three  men  were  men  of  very  bad  qualities:  they  had  no 
mind  to  be  pilgrims  themselves,  and  whomsoever  they  could  they  hindered. 
They  were  for  sloth  and  folly  themselves;  and  whomsoever  they  could  per- 
suade with,  they  made  so  too,  and  withal  taught  them  to  presume  that  they 
should  do  well  at  last.  They  were  asleep  when  Christian  went  by;  and, 
now  you  go  by,  they  are  hanged. 

Mer.  But  could  they  persuade  any  to  be  of  their  opinion  ? 

Great.  Yes,  they  turned  several  out  of  the  way.  There  was  Slow-pace 
that  they  persuaded  to  do  as  they.  They  also  prevailed  with  one  Short- 
wind,  with  one  No-heart,  with  one  Linger-after-lust,  and  with  one  Sleepy- 
head, and  with  a young  woman — her  name  was  Dull — to  turn  out  of  the 
way  and  become  as  they.  Besides,  they  brought  up  an  ill  report  of  your 
Lord,  persuading  others  that  He  was  a hard  task-master.  They  also 
brought  up  an  evil  report  of  the  good  land,  saying  it  was  not  half  so  good 
as  some  pretended  it  was.  They  also  began  to  vilify  His  servants,  and  to 
count  the  very  best  of  them  meddlesome,  troublesome  busybodies.  Fur- 
ther, they  would  call  the  bread  of  God,  husks;  the  comforts  of  His  chil- 
dren, fancies;  the  travel,  labour  of  pilgrims,  things  to  no  purpose. 

Chr.  “ Nay,”  said  Christiana,  “ if  they  were  such,  they  never  shall  be 
bewailed  by  me:  they  have  but  what  they  deserve;  and  I think  it  is  well 
that  they  hang  so  near  the  highway,  that  others  may  see  and  take  warning. 
But  had  it  not  been  well  if  their  crimes  had  been  engraven  on  some  plate 
of  iron  or  brass,  and  left  here,  where  they  did  their  mischiefs,  for  a caution 
to  other  bad  men?” 

Great.  So  it  is,  as  you  well  may  perceive,  if  you  will  go  a little  to  the 
wall. 

Mer.  No,  no:  let  them  hang,  and  their  names  rot,  and  their  crimes  live 
for  ever  against  them.  I think  it  a high  favour  that  they  were  hanged  afore 
we  came  hither;  who  knows,  else,  what  they  might  have  done  to  such  poor 
women  as  we  are? 

Then  she  turned  it  into  a song,  saying: 


“Now,  then,  you  three,  hang  there,  and  be  a sign 
To  all  that  shall  against  the  truth  combine ; 

And  let  him  that  comes  after  fear  this  end, 

If  unto  pilgrims  he  is  not  a friend. 


252 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


And  thou,  my  soul,  of  all  such  men  beware 
That  unto  holiness  opposers  are.” 

Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  at  the  foot  of  the  Hill  Difficulty,  where 
again  their  good  friend  Mr.  Great-heart  took  an  occasion  to  tell  them  of 
what  happened  there  when  Christian  himself  went  by.  So  he  had  them 
first  to  the  spring.  “Lo,”  saith  he,  “this  is  the  spring  that 
Christian  drank  of  before  he  went  up  this  hill:  and  then  it  was 
clear  and  good  ; but  now  it  is  dirty  with  the  feet  of  some  that 
are  not  desirous  that  pilgrims  here  should  quench  their  thirst.” 
(Ezek.  xxxiv.  1 8,  19.)  Thereat  Mercy  said,  “And  why  so 
envious,  trow?”  But  said  their  guide,  “It  will  do  if  taken  up 
and  put  into  a vessel  that  is  sweet  and  good;  for  then  the  dirt  will  sink  to 
the  bottom,  and  the  water  come  out  by  itself  more  clear.”  Thus,  therefore, 
Christiana  and  her  companions  were  compelled  to  do.  They  took  it  up, 
and  put  it  into  an  earthen  pot,  and  so  let  it  stand  till  the  dirt  was  gone  to 
the  bottom,  and  then  they  drank  thereof. 

Next  he  showed  them  the  two  by-ways  that  were  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  where  Formality  and  Hypocrisy  lost  themselves. 
And  said  he,  “These  are  dangerous  paths.  Two  were  here 
cast  away  when  Christian  came  by;  and  although,  as  you  see, 
these  ways  are  since  stopped  up  with  chains,  posts,  and  a 
ditch,  yet  there  are  that  will  choose  to  adventure  here,  rather 
than  take  the  pains  to  go  up  this  hill.” 

Chr.  The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard.  (Prov.  xiii.  15.)  It  is  a wonder 
that  they  can  get  into  those  ways  without  danger  of  breaking  their  necks. 

Great.  They  will  venture:  yea,  if  at  any  time  any  of  the  King’s  ser- 
vants doth  happen  to  see  them,  and  doth  call  unto  them,  and  tell  them  that 
they  are  in  the  wrong  ways,  and  do  bid  them  beware  the  danger,  then  they 
will  railingly  return  them  answer,  and  say,  “As  for  the  word  that  thou  hast 
spoken  unto  us  in  the  name  of  the  King,  we  will  not  hearken  unto  thee; 
but  we  will  certainly  do  whatsoever  thing  goeth  forth  out  of  our  own 
mouth.”  (Jer.  xliv.  16,  17.)  Nay,  if  you  look  a little  farther,  you  shall  see 
that  these  ways  are  made  cautionary  enough,  not  only  by  these  posts,  and 
ditch,  and  chain,  but  also  by  being  hedged  up ; yet  they  will  choose  to  go  there. 

Chr.  They  are  idle:  they  love  not  to  take  pains:  up-hill  way  is  unpleas- 
ant to  them.  So  it  is  fulfilled  unto  them  as  it  is  written,  “The  way  of  the 


By-paths, 
though 
barred  up, 
will  not  keep 
all  from 
going  in 
them. 


It  is  difficult 
getting  of 
good 

doctrine  in 

erroneous 

times. 


THE  ARBOUR  ON  THE  HILL. 


253 


slothful  man  is  a hedge  of  thorns."  (Prov.  xv.  19.)  Yea,  they  will  rather 
choose  to  walk  upon  a snare  than  go  up  this  hill,  and  the  rest  of  this  way 
to  the  City. 

Then  they  set  forward,  and  began  to  go  up  the  hill;  and  up  the  hill  they 
went.  But,  before  they  got  to  the  top,  Christiana  began  to  pant,  and  said, 
“I  dare  say  this  is  a breathing  hill:  no  marvel  if  they  that  love  their  ease 
more  than  their  souls  choose  to  themselves  a smoother  way.”  Then  said 
Mercy,  “I  must  sit  down;”  also  the  least  of  the  children  began  to  cry. 
“Come,  come,”  said  Great-heart,  “sit  not  down  here,  for  a little  above  is  the 
Prince’s  arbour.”  Then  took  he  the  little  boy  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  up 
thereto. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  arbour,  they  were  very  willing  to  sit  down, 
for  they  were  all  in  a pelting  heat.  Then  said  Mercy,  “ How  sweet  is  rest 
to  them  that  labour  (Matt.  xi.  28),  and  how  good  is  the  Prince  of  pilgrims 
to  provide  such  resting-places  for  them!  Of  this  arbour  1 have  heard  much, 
but  I never  saw  it  before.  But  here  let  us  beware  of  sleeping;  for,  as  1 
have  heard,  for  that  it  cost  poor  Christian  dear.” 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  the  little  ones,  “Come,  my  pretty  boys,  how 
do  you  do?  what  think  you  now  of  going  on  pilgrimage?” 

“Sir,”  said  the  least,  “I  was  almost  beat  out  of  heart;  but  I thank  you  for 
lending  me  a hand  at  my  need.  And  I remember  now  what  my  mother 
has  told  me,  namely,  ‘That  the  way  to  heaven  is  as  up  a ladder,  and  the 
way  to  hell  is  as  down  a hill.’  But  I had  rather  go  up  the  ladder  to  life, 
than  down  the  hill  to  death.  ’ 

Then  said  Mercy,  “But  the  proverb  is,  ‘To  go  down  the  hill  is  easy.’” 

But  James  said  (for  that  was  his  name),  “The  day  is  coming  when,  in  my 
opinion,  going  down-hill  will  be  the  hardest  of  all.” 

“That  ’s  a good  boy,”  said  his  master;  “thou  hast  given  her  a right 
answer.” 

Then  Mercy  smiled,  but  the  little  boy  did  blush. 

Chr.  “Come,”  said  Christiana,  “will  you  eat  a bit,  a little  to  sweeten 
your  mouths,  while  you  sit  here  to  rest  your  legs?  for  I have  here  a piece 
of  pomegranate,  which  Mr.  Interpreter  put  in  my  hand  just  when  I came 
out  of  his  doors:  he  gave  me  also  a piece  of  a honeycomb,  and  a little  bottle 
of  spirits.” 

“I  thought  he  gave  you  something,”  said  Mercy,  “because  he  called  you 
aside.” 


254 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


“Yes,  so  he  did,”  said  the  other;  “but,  Mercy,  it  shall  still  be  as  I said  it 
should,  when  at  first  we  came  from  home ; thou  shalt  be  a sharer  in  all  the 
good  that  I have,  because  thou  so  willingly  didst  become  my  companion.” 

“Then  she  gave  to  them,  and  they  did  eat,  both  Mercy  and  the  boys. 
And  said  Christiana  to  Mr.  Great-heart,  “Sir,  will  you  do  as  we?” 

But  he  answered,  “You  are  going  on  pilgrimage,  and  presently  I shall 
return:  much  good  may  what  you  have  do  to  you:  at  home  I eat  the  same 
every  day.” 

Now,  when  they  had  eaten  and  drunk,  and  had  chatted  a little  longer, 
their  guide  said  to  them,  “The  day  wears  away:  if  you  think  good,  let  us 
prepare  to  be  going.”  So  they  got  up  to  go,  and  the  little  boys  went 
before;  but  Christiana  forgat  to  take  her  bottle  of  spirits  with  her,  so  she 
sent  her  little  boy  back  to  fetch  it. 

Then  said  Mercy,  “I  think  this  is  a losing  place:  here  Christian  lost  his 
roll,  and  here  Christiana  left  her  bottle  behind  her.  Sir,  what  is  the  cause 
of  this?” 

So  their  guide  made  answer,  and  said,  “ The  cause  is  sleep  or  forgetful- 
ness: some  sleep  when  they  should  keep  awake,  and  some  forget  when  they 
should  remember.  And  this  is  the  very  cause  why  often  at 
Mark  this!  the  resting-places  some  pilgrims,  in  some  things,  come  off 
losers.  Pilgrims  should  watch,  and  remember  what  they  have 
already  received,  under  their  greatest  enjoyments;  but,  for  want  of  doing 
so,  ofttimes  their  rejoicing  ends  in  tears,  and  their  sunshine  in  a cloud: 
witness  the  story  of  Christian  at  this  place.” 

When  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  Mistrust  and  Timorous  met 
Christian,  to  persuade  him  to  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions,  they  perceived 
as  it  were  a stage,  and  before  it,  towards  the  road,  a broad  plate,  with  a 
copy  of  verses  written  thereon,  and  underneath  the  reason  of  the  raising 
up  of  that  stage  in  that  place  rendered.  The  verses  were  these: 

“Let  him  that  sees  this  stage  take  heed 
Unto  his  heart  and  tongue; 

Lest,  if  he  do  not,  here  he  speed 
As  some  have,  long  agone.” 

The  words  underneath  the  verses  were,  “This  stage  was  built  to  punish 
such  upon,  who,  through  timorousness  or  mistrust,  shall  be  afraid  to  go 
farther  on  pilgrimage.  Also  on  this  stage  both  Mistrust  and  Timorous 


GIANT  GRIM 


GIANT  GRIM  OVERPOWERED. 


257 


were  burned  through  the  tongue'  with  a hot  iron,  for  endeavouring  to 
hinder  Christian  in  his  journey.” 

Then  said  Mercy,  “This  is  much  like  to  the  saying  of  the  Beloved, 
‘What  shall  be  given  unto  thee,  or  what  shall  be  done  unto  thee,  thou  false 
tongue?  Sharp  arrows  of  the  mighty,  with  coals  of  juniper.’”  (Psa.  cxx. 

3-  4-) 

So  they  went  on  till  they  came  within  sight  of  the  lions.  An  emblem 
Now,  Mr.  Great-heart  was  a strong  man,  so  he  was  not  afraid  °Q  Qn  bravely 
of  a lion.  But  yet,  when  they  were  come  up  to  the  place  when  there 
where  the  lions  were,  the  boys,  that  went  before,  were  glad  to  but^hrhik^’ 
cringe  behind,  for  they  were  afraid  of  the  lions;  so  they  when 
stepped  back,  and  went  behind.  Come.  S 

At  this  their  guide  smiled,  and  said,  “How  now,  my  boys! 
do  you  love  to  go  before  when  no  danger  doth  approach,  and  love  to  come 
behind  so  soon  as  the  lions  appear?” 

Now,  as  they  went  up,  Mr.  Great-heart  drew  his  sword,  with  intent  to 
make  a way  for  the  pilgrims  in  spite  of  the  lions.  Then  there  appeared 
one  that,  it  seems,  had  taken  upon  him  to  back  the  lions;  and  he  said  to 
the  pilgrims’  guide,  “What  is  the  cause  of  your  coming  hither?”  Now,  the 
name  of  that  man  was  Grim,  or  Bloody-man,  because  of  his  slaying  of 
pilgrims;  and  he  was  of  the  race  of  the  giants. 

Great.  Then  said  the  pilgrims’  guide,  “These  women  and  children  are 
going  on  pilgrimage,  and  this  is  the  way  they  must  go;  and  go  it  they  shall, 
in  spite  of  thee  and  the  lions.” 

Grim.  This  is  not  their  way,  neither  shall  they  go  therein.  I am  come 
forth  to  withstand  them,  and  to  that  end  will  back  the  lions. 

Now,  to  say  truth,  by  reason  of  the  fierceness  of  the  lions,  and  of  the 
grim  carriage  of  him  that  did  back  them,  this  way  had  of  late  lain  much 
unoccupied,  and  was  almost  all  grown  over  with  grass. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  “Though  the  highways  have  been  unoccupied 
heretofore,  and  though  the  travellers  have  been  made  in  times  past  to  walk 
through  by-paths,  it  must  not  be  so  now  I am  risen.  ‘ Now  I am  risen  a 
mother  in  Israel.’”  (Judges  v.  6,  7.) 

Grim.  Then  he  swore  by  the  lions,  “But  it  should,”  and  therefore  bid 
them  turn  aside,  for  they  should  not  have  passage  there. 

But  Great-heart  their  guide  made  first  his  approach  unto  Grim,  and  laid 
so  heavily  at  him  with  his  sword,  that  he  forced  him  to  a retreat. 


258 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Grim.  Then  said  he  that  attempted  to  back  the  lions,  “Will  you  slay  me 
upon  mine  own  ground?” 

Great.  It  is  the  King’s  highway  that  we  are  in,  and  in  His  way  it  is 
that  thou  hast  placed  thy  lions;  but  these  women,  and  these  children,  though 
weak,  shall  hold  on  their  way  in  spite  of  thy  lions. 

And,  with  that,  he  gave  him  again  a downright  blow,  and  brought  him 
upon  his  knees.  With  this  blow  he  also  broke  his  helmet,  and  with  the 
next  he  cut  off  an  arm.  Then  did  the  giant  roar  so  hideously  that  his  voice 
frighted  the  women,  and  yet  they  were  glad  to -see  him  lie  sprawling  upon 
the  ground.  Now,  the  lion-s  were  chained,  and  so  of  themselves  could  do 
nothing. 

Wherefore,  when  old  Grim,  that  intended  to  back  them,  was  dead,  Mr. 
Great-heart  said  to  the  pilgrims,  “Come  now,  and  follow  me,  and  no  hurt 
shall  happen  to  you  from  the  lions.”  They  therefore  went  on;  but  the 
women  trembled  as  they  passed  by  them:  the  boys  also  looked  as  if  they 
would  die;  but  they  all  got  by  without  further  hurt. 

Now,  then,  they  were  within  sight  of  the  Porter’s  lodge,  and  they  soon 
came  up  unto  it ; but  they  made  the  more  haste  after  this  to  go  thither, 
because  it  is  dangerous  travelling  there  in  the  night.  So,  when  they  were 
come  to  the  gate,  the  guide  knocked,  and  the  Porter  cried,  “Who  is  there?” 
But  as  soon  as  the  guide  had  said  “It  is  I,”  he  knew  his  voice,  and  came 
down;  for  the  guide  had  oft  before  that  come  thither  as  a conductor  of 
pilgrims.  When  he  was  come  down  he  opened  the  gate;  and,  seeing  the 
guide  stand  just  before  it  (for  he  saw  not  the  women,  for  they  were  behind 
him),  he  said  unto  him,  “How  now,  Mr.  Great-heart!  what  is  your  business 
here  so  late  to-night?” 

“I  have  brought,”  said  he,  “some  pilgrims  hither,  where,  by  my  lord's 
commandment,  they  must  lodge.  I had  been  here  some  time  ago,  had  I 
not  been  opposed  by  the  giant  that  did  use  to  back  the  lions;  but  I,  after  a 
long  and  tedious  combat  with  him,  have  cut  him  off,  and  have  brought  the 
pilgrims  hither  in  safety.” 

Port.  Will  you  not  go  in,  and  stay  till  morning? 

Great.  No,  I will  return  to  my  lord  to-night. 

Chr.  Oh,  sir,  I know  not  how  to  be  willing  you  should  leave  us  in  our 
pilgrimage:  you  have  been  so  faithful  and  so  loving  to  us,  you  have  fought 
so  stoutly  for  us,  you  have  been  so  hearty  in  counselling  of  us,  that  I shall 
never  forget  your  favour  towards  us. 


A JOYFUL  RECEPTION. 


259 


Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  “ Oh  that  we  might  have  thy  company  to  our 
journey’s  end!  How  can  such  poor  women  as  we  hold  out  in  a way  so  full 
of  troubles  as  this  way  is,  without  a friend  and  defender?” 

James.  Then  said  James,  the  youngest  of  the  boys,  “Pray,  sir,  be  per- 
suaded to  go  with  us,  and  help  us,  because  we  are  so  weak,  and  the  way  so 
dangerous  as  it  is.” 

Great.  I am  at  my  lord’s  commandment.  If  he  shall  allot  me  to  be 
your  guide  quite  through,  I will  willingly  wait  upon  you.  But 
here  you  failed  at  first;  for  when  he  bid  me  come  thus  far  with  HeIP  lost  for 
you,  then  you  should  have  begged  me  of  him  to  have  gone  fo°  ah 
quite  through  with  you,  and  he  would  have  granted  your 
request.  However,  at  present  I must  withdraw ; and  so,  good  Christiana, 
Mercy,  and  my  brave  children,  adieu. 

Then  the  Porter,  Mr.  Watchful,  asked  Christiana  of  her  country  and  of 
her  kindred.  And  she  said,  “ I come  from  the  City  of  Destruction.  I am 
a widow  woman,  and  my  husband  is  dead:  his  name  was  Christian,  the 
pilgrim.” 

“How!”  said  the  Porter,  “was  he  your  husband?” 

“Yes,”  said  she,  “and  these  are  his  children,  and  this  (pointing  to  Mercy) 
is  one  of  my  townswomen.” 

Then  the  Porter  rang  his  bell,  as  at  such  times  he  is  wont,  and  there 
came  to  the  door  one  of  the  damsels,  whose  name  was  Humble-mind;  and 
to  her  the  Porter  said,  “Go,  tell  it  within  that  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Chris- 
tian, and  her  children,  are  come  hither  on  pilgrimage.” 

She  went  in,  therefore,  and  told  it.  But  oh,  what  a noise  for  gladness 
was  there  within  when  the  damsel  did  but  drop  that  word  out  of  her 
mouth ! 

So  they  came  with  haste  to  the  Porter,  for  Christiana  stood  still  at  the 
door.  Then  some  of  the  most  grave  said  unto  her,  “Come  in,  Christiana; 
come  in,  thou  wife  of  that  good  man ; come  in,  thou  blessed  woman ; come 
in,  with  all  that  are  with  thee.” 

So  she  went  in,  and  they  followed  her  that  were  her  children 
and  her  companions.  Now,  when  they  were  gone  in,  they 
were  had  into  a very  large  room,  where  they  were  bidden  to 
sit  down.  So  they  sat  down,  and  the  chief  of  the  house  were 
called  to  sec  and  welcome  the  guests.  Then  they  came  in, 
and  understanding  who  they  were,  did  salute  each  other  with  a kiss, 


Christians’ 
love  is  kin- 
dled at  the 
sight  of  one 
another. 


26o 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


and  said,  “Welcome,  ye  vessels  of  the  grace  of  God;  welcome  to  us,  your 
friends ! ” 

Now,  because  it  was  somewhat  late,  and  because  the  pilgrims  were  weary 
with  their  journey,  and  also  made  faint  with  the  sight  of  the  fight,  and  of 
the  terrible  lions,  therefore  they  desired,  as  soon  as  might  be,  to  prepare  to 
go  to  rest.  “Nay,”  said  those  of  the  family,  “refresh  yourselves  first  with 
a morsel  of  meat;”  for  they  had  prepared  for  them  a lamb,  with  the  accus- 
tomed sauce  belonging  thereto  (Exod.  xii.  21;  John  i.  29),  for  the  Porter 
had  heard  before  of  their  coming,  and  had  told  it  to  them  within.  So, 
when  they  had  supped,  and  ended  their  prayer  with  a psalm,  they  desired 
they  might  go  to  rest. 

“But  let  us,”  said  Christiana,  “if  we  may  be  so  bold  as  to  choose,  be  in 
that  chamber  that  was  my  husband’s  when  he  was  here.” 

So  they  had  them  up  thither,  and  they  lay  all  in  a room.  When  they 
were  at  rest,  Christiana  and  Mercy  entered  into  discourse  about  things  that 
were  convenient. 

Christ’s  Chr.  Little  did  I think  once,  when  my  husband  went  on 

alTpil^rims.1"  pilgrimage,  that  I should  ever  have  followed. 

Mer.  And  you  as  little  thought  of  lying  in  his  bed,  and  in 
his  chamber  to  rest,  as  you  do  now. 

Chr.  And  much  less  did  I ever  think  of  seeing  his  face  with  comfort, 
and  of  worshipping  the  Lord  the  King  with  him;  and  yet  now  I believe  I 
shall. 

Mer.  Hark!  don’t  you  hear  a noise? 

Chr.  Yes,  it  is,  as  I believe,  a noise  of  music,  for  joy  that  we  are  here. 

Mer.  Wonderful!  Music  in  the  house,  music  in  the  heart,  and  music 
also  in  heaven,  for  joy  that  we  are  here! 

Thus  they  talked  awhile,  and  then  betook  themselves  to  sleep.  So  in 
the  morning,  when  they  were  awake,  Christiana  said  to  Mercy,  “What  was 
the  matter,  that  you  did  laugh  in  your  sleep  to-night?  I suppose  you  were 
in  a dream.” 

Mer.  So  I was,  and  a sweet  dream  it  was;  but  are  you  sure  I laughed? 

Chr.  Yes,  you  laughed  heartily;  but,  prithee,  Mercy,  tell  me  thy  dream. 

Mer.  I was  dreaming  that  I sat  all  alone  in  a solitary  place,  and  was 
bemoaning  of  the  hardness  of  my  heart.  Now,  I had  not  sat  there  long, 
but  methought  many  were  gathered  about  me  to  see  me,  and  to  hear  what 
it  was  that  I said.  So  they  hearkened,  and  I went  on  bemoaning  the  hard- 


MERCY'S  DREAM. 


261 


ness  of  my  heart.  At  this,  some  of  them  laughed  at  me,  some  called  me 
fool,  and  some  thrust  me  about.  With  that,  methought  I looked  up,  and 
saw  one  coming  with  wings  towards  me.  So  he  came  directly  to  me,  and 
said,  “Mercy,  what  aileth  thee?”  Now,  when  he  had  heard  me  make  my 
complaint,  he  said,  “Peace  be  to  thee;"  he  also  wiped  mine  eyes  with  his 
handkerchief,  and  clad  me  in  silver  and  gold.  (Ezek.  xvi.  8 — 12.)  He  put 
a chain  about  my  neck,  and  ear-rings  in  mine  ears,  and  a beautiful  crown 
upon  my  head.  Then  he  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  said,  “Mercy,  come 
after  me.”  So  he  went  up,  and  I fol- 
lowed, till  we  came  to  a golden  gate. 

Then  he  knocked ; and  when  they  with- 
in opened,  the  man  went  in,  and  I fol- 
lowed him  up  to  a throne,  upon  which 
One  sat;  and  He  said  to  me,  “Welcome, 
daughter!”  The  place  looked  bright 
and  twinkling,  like  the  stars,  or  rather 
like  the  sun;  and  I thought  that  I saw 
your  husband  there.  So  I awoke  from 
my  dream.  But  did  I laugh? 

Chr.  Laugh!  ay,  and  well  you  might, 
to  see  yourself  so  well.  For  you  must 
give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  that  I believe 
it  was  a good  dream ; and  that,  as  you 
have  begun  to  find  the  first  part  true,  so 
you  shall  find  the  second  at  last.  “God 
speaks  once,  yea,  twice,  yet  man  per- 
ceiveth  it  not;  in  a dream,  in  a vision  of 
the  night,  when  deep  sleep  falleth  upon 
men,  in  slumberings  upon  the  bed.” 

(Job  xxxiii.  14,  15.)  We  need  not,  when  abed,  to  lie  awake  to  talk  with 
God:  He  can  visit  us  while  we  sleep,  and  cause  us  then  to  hear  His  voice. 
Our  heart  oftentimes  wakes  when  we  sleep;  and  God  can  speak  to  that, 
either  by  words,  by  proverbs,  or  by  signs  and  similitudes,  as  well  as  if  one 
was  awake. 

Mer.  Well,  I am  glad  of  my  dream;  for  I hope  ere  long  to  see  it  ful- 
filled, to  the  making  of  me  laugh  again. 

Ciir.  I think  it  is  now  high  time  to  rise,  and  to  know  what  we  must  do. 


262 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Mer.  Pray,  if  they  invite  us  to  stay  awhile,  let  us  willingly  accept  of  the 
proffer.  I am  the  willinger  to  stay  awhile  here,  to  grow  better  acquainted 
with  these  maids.  Methinks  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity  have  very 
comely  and  sober  countenances. 

Chr.  We  shall  see  what  they  will  do. 

So,  when  they  were  up  and  ready,  they  came  down ; and  they  asked  one 
another  of  their  rest,  and  if  it  was  comfortable  or  not. 

Mer.  “Very  good,”  said  Mercy;  “it  was  one  of  the  best  nights’  lodging 
that  ever  I had  in  my  life.” 

Then  said  Prudence  and  Piety,  “If  you  will  be  persuaded  to  stay  here 
awhile,  you  shall  have  what  the  house  will  afford.” 

Char.  “Ay,  and  that  with  a very  good  will,”  said  Charity. 

So  they  consented,  and  stayed  there  about  a month,  or  above,  and 
became  very  profitable  one  to  another.  And  because  Prudence  would  see 
how  Christiana  had  brought  up  her  children,  she  asked  leave  of  her  to 
catechize  them.  So  she  gave  her  free  consent. 

Then  she  began  at  the  youngest,  whose  name  was  James. 

Prud.  And  she  said,  “Come,  James,  canst  thou  tell  me  who  made 
thee?” 

James.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Prud.  Good  boy!  And  canst  thou  tell  me  who  saves  you? 

James.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Prud.  Good  boy,  still!  But  how  doth  God  the  Father  save  thee? 

James.  By  His  grace. 

Prud.  How  doth  God  the  Son  save  thee? 

James.  By  His  righteousness,  death,  and  blood,  and  life. 

Prud.  And  how  doth  God  the  Holy  Ghost  save  thee? 

James.  By  His  illumination,  by  His  renovation,  and  by  His  preserva- 
tion. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Christiana,  “You  are  to  be  commended  for  thus 
bringing  up  your  children.  I suppose  I need  not  ask  the  rest  these  ques- 
tions, since  the  youngest  of  them  can  answer  them  so  well.  I will  there- 
fore now  apply  myself  to  the  youngest  next.” 

Prud.  Then  she  said,  “Come,  Joseph  (for  his  name  was  Joseph),  will 
you  let  me  catechize  you? 

Joseph.  With  all  my  heart. 

Prud.  What  is  man? 


“Then  she  began  at  the  youngest,  whose  name  was  James.’ 


PRUDENCE  CATECHIZING  THE  CHILDREN. 


265 


Joseph.  A reasonable  creature,  so  made  by  God,  as  my  brother  said. 

Prud.  What  is  supposed  by  this  word,  “saved"? 

Joseph.  That  man,  by  sin,  has  brought  himself  into  a state  of  captivity 
and  misery. 

Prud.  What  is  supposed  by  his  being  saved  by  the  Trinity? 

Joseph.  That  sin  is  so  great  and  mighty  a tyrant,  that  none  can  pull  us 
out  of  its  clutches  but  God;  and  that  God  is  so  good  and  loving  to  man,  as 
to  pull  him  indeed  out  of  this  miserable  state. 

Prud.  What  is  God’s  design  in  saving  of  poor  men  ? 

Joseph.  The  glorifying  of  His  name,  of  His  grace  and  justice,  etc.,  and 
the  everlasting  happiness  of  His  creatures. 

Prud.  Who  are  they  that  must  be  saved  ? 

Joseph.  Those  that  accept  of  His  salvation. 

Prud.  Good  boy,  Joseph!  thy  mother  hath  taught  thee  well,  and  thou 
hast  hearkened  to  what  she  has  said  unto  thee. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Samuel,  who  was  the  eldest  son  but  one: 

Prud.  Come,  Samuel,  are  you  willing  that  I should  catechize  you 
also  ? 

Sam.  Yes,  forsooth,  if  you  please. 

Prud.  What  is  heaven  ? 

Sam.  A place  and  state  most  blessed,  because  God  dwelleth  there. 

Prud.  What  is  hell  ? 

Sam.  A place  and  state  most  woeful,  because  it  is  the  dwelling-place  of 
sin,  the  devil,  and  death. 

Prud.  Why  wouldst  thou  go  to  heaven? 

Sam.  That  I may  see  God,  and  serve  Him  without  weariness;  that  I 
may  see  Christ,  and  love  Him  everlastingly;  that  I may  have  that  fulness 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  me,  that  I can  by  no  means  here  enjoy. 

Prud.  A very  good  boy,  also,  and  one  that  has  learned  well ! 

Then  she  addressed  herself  to  the  eldest,  whose  name  was  Matthew;  and 
she  said  to  him,  “Come,  Matthew,  shall  I also  catechize  you?” 

Matt.  With  a very  good  will. 

Prud.  I ask,  then,  if  there  was  ever  anything  that  had  a being  antecedent 
to  or  before  God  ? 

Matt.  No,  for  God  is  eternal;  nor  is  there  anything,  excepting  Himself, 
that  had  a being  until  the  beginning  of  the  first  day.  For  in  six  days  the 
Lord  made  heaven  and  earth,  the  sea,  and  all  that  in  them  is. 


266 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Prud.  What  do  you  think  of  the  Bible? 

Matt.  It  is  the  holy  Word  of  God. 

Prud.  Is  there  nothing  written  therein  but  what  you  understand? 

Matt.  Yes,  a great  deal. 

Prud.  What  do  you  do  when  you  meet  with  such  places  therein  that 
you  do  not  understand? 

Matt.  I think  God  is  wiser  than  I.  I pray  also  that  He  will  please  to 
let  me  know  all  therein  that  He  knows  will  be  for  my  good. 

Prud.  How  believe  you  as  touching  the  resurrection  of  the  dead? 

Matt.  I believe  they  shall  rise  the  same  that  was  buried;  the  same  in 
nature,  though  not  in  corruption.  And  I believe  this  upon  a double 
account:  first,  because  God  has  promised  it;  secondly,  because  He  is  able 
to  perform  it. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  the  boys,  “You  must  still  hearken  to  your 
mother,  for  she  can  teach  you  more.  You  must  also  diligently  give  ear  to 
what  good  talk  you  shall  hear  from  others;  for,  for  your  sakes  do  they 
speak  good  things.  Observe  also,  and  that  with  carefulness,  what  the 
heavens  and  the  earth  do  teach  you ; but  especially  be  much  in  the  medi- 
tation of  that  book  that  was  the  cause  of  your  father’s  becoming  a pilgrim. 
I,  for  my  part,  my  children,  will  teach  you  what  I can  while  you  are 
here,  and  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  ask  me  questions  that  tend  to  godly 
edifying.” 

Now,  by  that  these  pilgrims  had  been  at  this  place  a week,  Mercy  had  a 
visitor  that  pretended  some  good-will  unto  her;  and  his  name  was  Mr. 
Brisk ; a man  of  some  breeding,  and  that  pretended  to  religion,  but  a man 
that  stuck  very  close  to  the  world.  So  he  came  once  or  twice,  or  more,  to 
Mercy,  and  offered  love  unto  her.  Now,  Mercy  was  of  a fair  countenance, 
and  therefore  the  more  alluring. 

Her  mind  also  was,  to  be  always  busying  of  herself  in  doing;  for,  when 
she  had  nothing  to  do  for  herself,  she  would  be  making  of  hose  and  gar- 
ments for  others,  and  would  bestow  them  upon  them  that  had  need.  And 
Mr.  Brisk,  not  knowing  where  or  how  she  disposed  of  what  she  made, 
seemed  to  be  greatly  taken,  for  that  he  found  her  never  idle.  “I  will  war- 
rant her  a good  housewife,”  quoth  he  to  himself. 

Mercy  then  revealed  the  business  to  the  maidens  that  were  of  the  house, 
and  inquired  of  them  concerning  him;  for  they  did  know  him  better  than 
she.  So  they  told  her  that  he  was  a very  busy  young  man,  and  one  who 


MR.  BRISK 


MERCY  AND  MR.  BRISK. 


269 


pretended  to  religion,  but  was,  as  they  feared,  a stranger  to  the  power  of 
that  which  is  good. 

“Nay,  then,”  said  Mercy,  “I  will  look  no  more  on  him;  for  I purpose 
never  to  have  a clog  to  my  soul.” 

Prudence  then  replied  that  “There  needed  no  great  matter  of  discour- 
agement to  be  given  to  him;  her  continuing  so  as  she  had  begun  to  do  for 
the  poor  would  quickly  cool  his  courage." 

So,  the  next  time  he  comes,  he  finds  her  at  her  old  work,  a-making  of 
things  for  the  poor.  Then  said  he,  “What!  always  at  it?” 

“Yes,”  said  she,  “either  for  myself  or  for  others.” 

“And  what  canst  thou  earn  a day?”  quoth  he. 

“I  do  these  things,”  said  she,  “that  I may  be  rich  in  good  works,  laying 
up  in  store  for  myself  a good  foundation  against  the  time  to  come,  that  I 
may  lay  hold  on  eternal  life.”  (I.  Tim.  vi.  17 — 19.) 

“Why,  prithee,  what  doest  thou  with  them?”  said  he. 

“Clothe  the  naked,”  said  she. 

With  that,  his  countenance  fell.  So  he  forbore  to  come  at  her  again. 
And  when  he  was  asked  the  reason  why,  he  said  that  “Mercy  was  a pretty 
lass,  but  troubled  with  ill  conditions.” 

When  he  had  left  her,  Prudence  said,  “ Did  I not  tell  thee  Mercy  in  the 
that  Mr.  Brisk  would  soon  forsake  thee?  yea,  he  will  raise  up  practice  of 
an  ill  report  of  thee;  for,  notwithstanding  his  pretence  to  re-  jected,  while 
ligion  and  his  seeming  love  to  Mercy,  yet  Mercy  and  he  are  of  Mercy  111  the 
tempers  so  different,  that  I believe  they  will  never  come  mercy^s 
together.”  liked. 

Mer.  I might  have  had  husbands  afore  now,  though  I spake 
not  of  it  to  any;  but  they  were  such  as  did  not  like  my  conditions,  though 
never  did  any  of  them  find  fault  with  my  person.  So  they  and  I could 
not  agree. 

Prud.  Mercy  in  our  days  is  little  set  by,  any  further  than  as  to  its  name: 
the  practice,  which  is  set  forth  by  thy  conditions,  there  are  but  few  that  can 
abide. 

Mer.  “Well,”  said  Mercy,  “ if  nobody  will  have  me,  I will  die  a maid,  or 
my  conditions  shall  be  to  me  as  a husband;  for  I cannot  change  my  nature; 
and  to  have  one  that  lies  cross  to  me  in  this,  that  I purpose  never  to  admit 
of  as  long  as  I live.  I had  a sister,  named  Bountiful,  that  was  married  to 
one  of  these  churls;  but  he  and  she  could  never  agree;  but,  because  my 


270 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


sister  was  resolved  to  do  as  she  had  begun,  that  is,  to  show  kindness  to  the 
poor,  therefore  her  husband  first  cried  her  down  at  the  cross,  and  then 
turned  her  out  of  his  doors.” 

Prud.  And  yet  he  was  a professor,  I warrant  you? 

Mer.  Yes,  such  a one  as  he  was;  and  of  such  as  he  the  world  is  now 
full;  but  I am  for  none  of  them  at  all. 

Now  Matthew,  the  eldest  son  of  Christiana,  fell  sick,  and  his 

T''  / r 

conscience  sickness  was  sore  upon  him,  for  he  was  much  pained  in  his 
bowels;  so  that  he  was  with  it,  at  times,  pulled  as  it  were 
both  ends  together. 

There  dwelt  also  not  far  from  thence  one  Mr.  Skill,  an  ancient  and  well- 
approved  physician.  So  Christiana  desired  it,  and  they  sent  for  him,  and 
he  came.  When  he  was  entered  the  room,  and  had  a little  observed  the 
boy,  he  concluded  that  he  was  sick  of  the  gripes.  Then  he  said  to  his 
mother,  “What  diet  has  Matthew  of  late  fed  upon?” 

“Diet!”  said  Christiana;  “nothing  but  that  which  is  wholesome.” 

The  physician  answered,  “This  boy  has  been  tampering  with  something 
that  lies  in  his  maw  undigested,  and  that  will  not  away  without  means. 
And  I tell  you  he  must  be  purged,  or  else  he  will  die.” 

Sam.  Then  said  Samuel,  “ Mother,  what  was  that  which  my  brother  did 
gather  up  and  eat,  so  soon  as  we  were  come  from  the  gate  that  is  at  the 
head  of  this  way?  You  know  that  there  was  an  orchard  on  the  left  hand, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  and  some  of  the  trees  hung  over  the  wall, 
and  my  brother  did  plash  and  did  eat.” 

Chr.  “True,  my  child,”  said  Christiana,  “he  did  take  thereof,  and  did 
eat;  naughty  boy  as  he  was,  I did  chide  him,  and  yet  he  would  eat  thereof.” 
Skill.  I knew  he  had  eaten  something  that  was  not  wholesome  food; 
and  that  food,  to  wit,  that  fruit,  is  even  the  most  hurtful  of  all.  It  is  the 
fruit  of  Beelzebub’s  orchard.  I do  marvel  that  none  did  warn  you  of  it: 
many  have  died  thereof. 

Chr.  Then  Christiana  began  to  cry,  and  she  said,  “Oh,  naughty  boy! 
and  oh,  careless  mother!  What  shall  I do  for  my  son?” 

Skill.  Come,  do  not  be  too  much  dejected;  the  boy  may  do  well  again, 
but  he  must  purge  and  vomit. 

Chr.  Pray,  sir,  try  the  utmost  of  your  skill  with  him,  whatever  it  costs. 
Skill.  Nay,  I hope  I shall  be  reasonable. 

So  he  made  him  a purge,  but  it  was  too  weak;  it  was  said,  it  was  made 


DOCTOR  SKILL. 


MATTHEW  FALLS  SICK. 


273 


of  the  blood  of  a goat,  the  ashes  of  an  heifer,  and  with  some  of  the  juice  of 
hyssop,  etc.  (Heb.  ix.  13 — 19;  x,  1 — 4.)  When  Mr.  Skill  had  seen  that 
that  purge  was  too  weak,  he  made  him  one  to  the  purpose.  It  was  made 
[“The  Latin  I borrow,”  remarks  Bunyan  in  the  margin]  ex  came  et  san- 
guine Ckristi  (John  vi.  54 — 57;  Heb.  ix.  14); — (you  know  physicians  give 
strange  medicines  to  their  patients!) — and  it  was  made  up  into  pills,  with  a 
promise  or  two,  and  a proportionable  quantity  of  salt.  (Mark  ix.  49.) 
Now,  he  was  to  take  them  three  at  a time,  fasting,  in  half  a quarter  of  a 
pint  of  the  tears  of  repentance.  (Zech.  xii.  10.) 

When  this  potion  was  prepared  and  brought  to  the  boy,  he  was  loth  to 
take  it,  though  torn  with  the  gripes  as  if  he  should  be  pulled  in  pieces. 

“Come,  come,”  said  the  physician,  “you  must  take  it.” 

“It  goes  against  my  stomach,”  said  the  boy. 

“ I must  have  you  take  it,”  said  his  mother. 

“I  shall  vomit  it  up  again,”  said  the  boy. 

“Pray,  sir,”  said  Christiana  to  Mr.  Skill,  “how  does  it  taste?” 

“It  has  no  ill  taste,”  said  the  doctor;  and  with  that,  she  touched  one  of 
the  pills  with  the  tip  of  her  tongue. 

“Oh,  Matthew,  said  she,  “this  potion  is  sweeter  than  honey.  If  thou 
lovest  thy  mother,  if  thou  lovest  thy  brothers,  if  thou  lovest  Mercy,  if  thou 
lovest  thy  life,  take  it.” 

So,  with  much  ado,  after  a short  prayer  for  the  blessing  of  A word  of 
God  upon  it,  he  took  it,  and  it  wrought  kindly  with  him.  It 
caused  him  to  purge,  it  caused  him  to  sleep  and  rest  quietly;  faith, 
it  put  him  into  a fine  heat  and  breathing  sweat,  and  did  quite 
rid  him  of  his  gripes.  So,  in  little  time  he  got  up,  and  walked  about  with 
a staff,  and  would  go  from  room  to  room,  and  talk  with  Prudence,  Piety, 
and  Charity,  of  his  distemper,  and  how  he  was  healed. 

So,  when  the  boy  was  healed,  Christiana  asked  Mr.  Skill,  saying,  “Sir, 
what  will  content  you  for  your  pains  and  care  to  and  of  my  child?" 

And  he  said,  “You  must  pay  the  Master  of  the  College  of  Physicians 
(Heb.  xiii.  11  — 15),  according  to  the  rules  made  in  that  case  and  pro- 
vided.” 

Chr.  “But,  sir,"  said  she,  “what  is  this  pill  good  for  else?” 

Skill.  It  is  an  universal  pill:  it  is  good  against  all  the  diseases  that 
pilgrims  are  incident  to;  and  when  it  is  well  prepared,  it  will  keep  good 
time  out  of  mind. 


274 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


In  a glass  of 
the  tears  of 
repentance. 


Chr.  Pray,  sir,  make  me  up  twelve  boxes  of  them ; for,  if  I can  get  these, 
I will  never  take  other  physic. 

Skill.  These  pills  are  good  to  prevent  diseases,  as  well  as  to  cure 
when  one  is  sick.  Yea,  I dare  say  it,  and  stand  to  it,  that  if  a 
man  will  but  use  this  physic  as  he  should,  it  will  make  him 
live  for  ever.  (John  vi.  50.)  But,  good  Christiana,  thou  must 
give  these  pills  no  other  way  than  as  I have  prescribed;  for 
if  you  do,  they  will  do  no  good.  So  he  gave  unto  Christiana  physic  for 
herself  and  her  boys,  and  for  Mercy;  and  bid  Matthew  take  heed  how  he  ate 
any  more  green  plums;  and  kissed  them  and  went  his  way. 

It  was  told  you  before,  that  Prudence  bid  the  boys,  if  at  any  time  they 
would,  they  should  ask  her  some  questions  that  might  be  profitable,  and 
she  would  say  something  to  them. 

Matt.  Then  Matthew,  who  had  been  sick,  asked  her,  “Why,  for  the 
most  part,  physic  should  be  bitter  to  our  palates?” 

Prud.  To  show  how  unwelcome  the  Word  of  God,  and  the  effects 
thereof,  are  to  a carnal  heart. 

Matt.  Why  does  physic,  if  it  does  good,  purge  and  cause  that  we  vomit? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  word,  when  it  works  effectually,  cleanseth  the 
heart  and  mind.  For  look,  what  the  one  doth  to  the  body,  the  other  doth 
to  the  soul 

Matt.  What  should  we  learn  by  seeing  the  flame  of  our  fire  go  upwards, 
and  by  seeing  the  beams  and  sweet  influences  of  the  sun  strike  downwards? 

Prud.  By  the  going  up  of  the  fire,  we  are  taught  to  ascend  to  heaven 
by  fervent  and  hot  desires.  And  by  the  sun’s  sending  his  heat,  beams,  and 
sweet  influences  downwards,  we  are  taught  that  the  Saviour  of  the  world, 
though  high,  reaches  down  with  His  grace  and  love  to  us  below. 

Matt.  Where  have  the  clouds  their  water? 

Out  of  the  sea. 

What  may  we  learn  from  that? 

That  ministers  should  fetch  their  doctrine  from  God. 

Why  do  they  empty  themselves  upon  the  earth? 

To  show  that  ministers  should  give  out  what  they  know  of  God 
to  the  world. 

Matt.  Why  is  the  rainbow  caused  by  the  sun? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  covenant  of  God’s  grace  is  confirmed  to  us  in 
Christ. 


Prud. 

Matt. 

Prud. 

Matt. 

Prud. 


ALL  THINGS  MINISTER  TO  THE  PILGRIM'S  EDIFICATION. 


275 


Matt. 

Prud. 

Christ. 

Matt. 

Prud. 


Why  do  the  springs  come  from  the  sea  to  us  through  the  earth? 
To  show  that  the  grace  of  God  comes  to  us  through  the  body  of 


Why  do  some  of  the  springs  rise  out  of  the  tops  of  high  hills? 

To  show  that  the  spirit  of  grace  shall  spring  up  in  some  that  are 
great  and  mighty,  as  well  as  in  many  that  are  poor  and  low. 

Matt.  Why  doth  the  fire  fasten  upon  the  candle-wick? 

Prud.  To  show  that,  unless  grace  doth  kindle  upon  the  heart,  there  will 
be  no  true  light  of  life  in  us. 

Matt.  Why  is  the  wick,  and  tallow,  and  all,  spent  to  maintain  the  light 
of  the  candle? 

Prud.  To  show  that  body,  and  soul,  and  all,  should  be  at  the  service  of, 
and  spend  themselves  to  maintain  in  good  condition,  that  grace  of  God  that 
is  in  us. 

Matt.  Why  doth  the  pelican  pierce  her  own  breast  with  her  bill  ? 

Prud.  To  nourish  her  young  ones  with  her  blood,  and  thereby  to  show 
that  Christ  the  Blessed  so  loveth  His  young  (His  people),  as  to  save  them 
from  death  by  His  blood. 

Matt.  What  may  one  learn  by  hearing  the  cock  to  crow? 

Prud.  Learn  to  remember  Peter’s  sin  and  Peter’s  repen Lance.  The 
cock’s  crowing  shows  also  that  day  is  coming  on:  let,  then,  the  crowing  of 
the  cock  put  thee  in  mind  of  that  last  and  terrible  day  of  judgment. 

Now,  about  this  time,  their  month  was  out;  wherefore  they 
signified  to  those  of  the  house  that  it  was  convenient  for  them 
to  be  up  and  going.  Then  said  Joseph  to  his  mother,  “It  is 
convenient  that  you  forget  not  to  send  to  the  house  of  Mr.  In- 
terpreter, to  pray  him  to  grant  that  Mr.  Great-heart  should  be 
sent  unto  us,  that  he  may  be  our  conductor  the  rest  of  our  way.” 

“Good  boy,”  said  she,  “ I had  almost  forgot.”  So  she  drew  up  a petition, 
and  prayed  Mr.  Watchful  the  Porter  to  send  it  by  some  fit  man  to  her  good 
friend  Mr.  Interpreter,  who,  when  it  was  come,  and  he  had  seen  the  con- 
tents of  the  petition,  said  to  the  messenger,  “Go,  tell  them  that  I will  send 
him.” 

When  the  family  where  Christiana  was  saw  that  they  had  a purpose  to 
go  forward,  they  called  the  whole  house  together,  to  give  thanks  to  their 
King  for  sending  of  them  such  profitable  guests  as  these.  Which  done, 
they  said  unto  Christiana,  “And  shall  we  not  show  thee  something,  accord- 


The  weak 
may  some- 
times call  the 
strong  to 
prayers. 


2/6 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


sin  is  amaz- 
ing. 


ing  as  our  custom  is  to  do  to  pilgrims,  on  which  thou  mayest  meditate 
when  thou  art  upon  the  way?” 

So  they  took  Christiana,  her  children,  and  Mercy,  into  the  closet,  and 
showed  them  one  of  the  apples  that  Eve  did  eat  of,  and  that  which  she  also 
did  give  to  her  husband,  and  that  for  the  eating  of  which  they  were  both 
turned  out  of  Paradise,  and  asked  her  what  she  thought  that  was. 

Then  Christiana  said,  “ It  is  food  or  poison,  I know  not 
A sight  of  which.” 

So  they  opened  the  matter  to  her,  and  she  held  up  her 
hands  and  wondered.  (Gen.  iii.  6;  Rom.  vii.  24.) 

Then  they  had  her  to  a place,  and  showed  her  Jacob's  ladder.  Now,  at 
that  time  there  were  some  angels  ascending  upon  it.  (Gen.  xxviii.  12.) 
So  Christiana  looked  and  looked,  to  see  the  angels  go  up,  and  so  did  the 
rest  of  the  company.  Then  they  were  going  into  another  place,  to  show 
them  something  else;  but  James  said  to  his  mother,  “Pray  bid 
A sight  of  them  stay  here  a little  longer,  for  this  is  a curious  sight.”  So 

taking.* S they  turned  again,  and  stood  feeding  their  eyes  with  this  so 

pleasing  a prospect.  (John  i.  51.) 

After  this  they  had  them  into  a place  where  did  hang  up  a golden 
anchor.  So  they  bid  Christiana  take  it  down;  “For,”  said  they,  “you  shall 
have  it  with  you,  for  it  is  of  absolute  necessity  that  you  should,  that  you 
may  lay  hold  of  that  within  the  veil  (Heb.  vi.  19),  and  stand  steadfast,  in 
case  you  should  meet  with  turbulent  weather."  (Joel  iii.  16.)  So  they 
were  glad  thereof. 

Then  they  took  them,  and  had  them  to  the  mount  upon  which  Abraham 
our  father  had  offered  up  Isaac  his  son,  and  showed  them  the  altar,  the 
wood,  the  fire,  and  the  knife;  for  they  remain  to  be  seen  to  this  very  day. 
(Gen.  xxii.  9.)  When  they  had  seen  it,  they  held  up  their  hands,  and 
blessed  themselves,  and  said,  “Oh!  what  a man  for  love  to  his  Master,  and 
for  denial  to  himself,  was  Abraham!  ” 

After  they  had  showed  them  all  these  things,  Prudence  took  them  into 
the  dining-room,  where  stood  a pair  of  excellent  virginals;  so  she  played 
upon  them,  and  turned  what  she  had  showed  them  into  this  excellent  song, 
saying: 


“ Eve’s  apple  we  have  showed  you — 
Of  that  be  you  aware ; 

You  have  seen  Jacob’s  ladder  too, 
Upon  which  angels  are. 


GREAT. HEART  RETURNS  TO  ACCOMPANY  THE  PILGRIMS. 


2 17 


An  anchor  you  received  have : 

But  let  not  these  suffice, 

Until,  with  Abra’m,  you  have  gave 
Your  best  a sacrifice.” 

Now,  about  this  time,  one  knocked  at  the  door.  So  the  Porter  opened, 
and  behold,  Mr.  Great-heart  was  there;  but  when  he  was  come  in,  what  joy 
was  there ! For  it  came  now  fresh  again  into  their  minds,  how,  but  a 
while  ago,  he  had  slain  old  Grim  Bloodyman,  the  giant,  and  had  delivered 
them  from  the  lions. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  Christiana  and  to  Mercy,  “ My  lord  has  sent 
each  of  you  a bottle  of  wine,  and  also  some  parched  corn,  together  with  a 
couple  of  pomegranates;  he  has  also  sent  the  boys  some  figs  and  raisins,  to 
refresh  you  in  your  way.” 

Then  they  addressed  themselves  to  their  journey;  and  Prudence  and 
Piety  went  along  with  them.  When  they  came  at  the  gate,  Christiana 
asked  the  Porter  if  any  one  of  late  went  by. 

He  said,  “No;  only  one  some  time  since,  who  also  told  me  that,  of  late, 
there  had  been  a great  robbery  committed  on  the  King’s  highway  as  you 
go.  But  he  saith  the  thieves  are  taken,  and  will  shortly  be  tried  for  their 
lives.” 

Then  Christiana  and  Mercy  were  afraid;  but  Matthew  said,  “Mother,  fear 
nothing  as  long  as  Mr.  Great-heart  is  to  go  with  us,  and  to  be  our  con- 
ductor.” 

Then  said  Christiana  to  the  Porter,  “Sir,  I am  much  obliged  to  you  for 
all  the  kindnesses  that  you  have  shown  me  since  I came  hither,  and  also 
for  that  you  have  been  so  loving  and  kind  to  my  children.  I know  not  how 
to  gratify  your  kindness;  wherefore,  pray,  as  a token  of  my  respects  to  you, 
accept  of  this  small  mite.” 

So  she  put  a gold  angel  in  his  hand;  and  he  made  her  a low  obeisance, 
and  said,  “Let  thy  garments  be  always  white,  and  let  thy  head  want  no 
ointment.  (Eccles.  ix.  8.)  Let  Mercy  live  and  not  die,  and  let  not  her 
works  be  few.”  (Deut.  xxxiii.  6.)  And  to  the  boys  he  said,  “Do  you  flee 
youthful  lusts,  and  follow  after  godliness  with  them  that  are  grave  and  wise 
(II  Tim.  ii.  22),  so  shall  you  put  gladness  into  your  mother’s  heart,  and 
obtain  praise  of  all  that  are  sober-minded.” 

So  they  thanked  the  Porter,  and  departed. 

Now  I saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  forward  until  they  were  come  to 


278 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


the  brow  of  ihe  hill;  where  Piety,  bethinking  herself,  cried  out,  “Alas!  I 
have  forgot  what  I intended  to  bestow  upon  Christiana  and  her  com- 
panions: I will  go  back  and  fetch  it.”  So  she  ran  and  fetched  it.  While 
she  was  gone,  Christiana  thought  she  heard,  in  a grove  a little  way  off  on 
the  right  hand,  a most  curious  melodious  note,  with  words  much  like  these: 


“ Through  all  my  life  Thy  favour  is 
So  frankly  showed  to  me, 

That  in  Thy  house  for  evermore 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be.” 

And  listening  still,  she  thought  she  heard  another  answer  it,  saying: 

“For  why?  the  Lord  our  God  is  good; 

His  mercy  is  for  ever  sure; 

His  truth  at  all  times  firmly  stood, 

And  shall  from  age  to  age  endure.” 

So  Christiana  asked  Prudence  what  it  was  that  made  those  curious  notes. 
(Song  ii.  11,  12.)  “They  are,”  said  she,  “our  country  birds:  they  sing  these 
notes  but  seldom,  except  it  be  at  the  spring,  when  the  flowers  appear  and 
the  sun  shines  warm,  and  then  you  may  hear  them  all  day  long.  I often,” 
said  she,  “go  out  to  hear  them;  we  also  ofttimes  keep  them  tame  in  our 
house.  They  are  very  fine  company  for  us  when  we  are  melancholy;  also 
they  make  the  woods,  and  groves,  and  solitary  places  places  desirable  to 
be  in.” 

By  this  time  Piety  was  come  again.  So  she  said  to  Christiana,  “Look 
here:  I have  brought  thee  a scheme  of  all  those  things  that  thou  hast  seen 
at  our  house,  upon  which  thou  mayest  look  when  thou  findest  thyself  for- 
getful, and  call  those  things  again  to  remembrance  for  thy  edification  and 
comfort.” 

Now  they  began  to  go  down  the  hill  into  the  Valley  of  Humiliation.  It 
was  a steep  hill,  and  the  way  was  slippery;  but  they  were  very  careful,  so 
they  got  down  pretty  well.  When  they  were  down  in  the  valley,  Piety  said 
to  Christiana,  “This  is  the  place  where  Christian,  your  husband,  met  with 
the  foul  fiend  Apollyon,  and  where  they  had  that  dreadful  fight  that  they 
had:  I know  you  cannot  but  have  heard  thereof.  But  be  of  good  courage: 
as  long  as  you  have  here  Mr.  Great-heart  to  be  your  guide  and  conductor, 
we  hope  you  will  fare  the  better.” 


THE  VALLEY  OF  HUMILIATION. 


279 


So,  when  these  two  had  committed  the  pilgrims  unto  the  conduct  of 
their  guide,  he  went  forward,  and  they  went  after. 

Great.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “We  need  not  to  be  so  afraid  of  this 
valley,  for  here  is  nothing  to  hurt  us,  unless  we  procure  it  to  ourselves.  It 
is  true  that  Christian  did  here  meet  with  Apollyon,  with  whom  he  had  also 
a sore  combat;  but  that  fray  was  the  fruit  of  those  slips  that  he  got  in  his 
going  down  the  hill;  for  they  that  get  slips  there,  must  look  for  combats 
here.  And  hence  it  is  that  this  valley  has  got  so  hard  a name.  For  the 
common  people,  when  they  hear  that  some  frightful  thing  has  befallen  such 
a one  in  such  a place,  are  of  an  opinion  that  that  place  is  haunted  with 
some  foul  fiend  or  evil  spirit;  when,  alas!  it  is  for  the  fruit  of  their  doing 
that  such  things  do  befall  them  there.  This  Valley  of  Humiliation  is  of 
itself  as  fruitful  a place  as  any  the  crow  flies  over;  and  I am  persuaded,  if 
we  could  hit  upon  it,  we  might  find,  somewhere  hereabouts,  something 
that  might  give  us  an  account  why  Christian  was  so  hardly  beset  in  this 
place.” 

Then  James  said  to  his  mother,  “ Lo,  yonder  stands  a pillar,  and  it  looks 
as  if  something  was  written  thereon : let  us  go  and  see  what  it  is.”  So  they 
went,  and  found  there  written,  “Let  Christian’s  slips  before  he  came  hither, 
and  the  battles  that  he  met  with  in  this  place,  be  a warning  to  those  that 
come  after.” 

“ Lo !”  said  their  guide,  “did  not  I tell  you  that  there  was  something 
hereabouts  that  would  give  intimation  of  the  reason  why  Christian  was  so 
hard  beset  in  this  place?”  Then  turning  himself  to  Christiana,  he  said, 
“ No  disparagement  to  Christian,  more  than  to  many  others  whose  hap  and 
loss  his  was;  for  it  is  easier  going  up  than  down  this  hill;  and  that  can  be 
said  but  of  few  hills  in  all  these  parts  of  the  world.  But  we  will  leave  the 
good  man:  he  is  at  rest;  he  also  had  a brave  victory  over  his  enemy.  Let 
Him  that  dwelleth  above  grant  that  we  fare  no  worse,  when  we  come  to  be 
tried,  than  he. 

“But  we  will  come  again  to  this  Valley  of  Humiliation.  It  is  the  best 
and  most  fruitful  piece  of  ground  in  all  these  parts.  It  is  fat  ground,  and, 
as  you  see,  consisteth  much  in  meadows;  and  if  a man  was  to  come  here  in 
the  summer-time,  as  we  do  now,  if  he  knew  not  anything  before  thereof, 
and  if  he  also  delighted  himself  in  the  sight  of  his  eyes,  he  might  see  that 
that  would  be  delightful  to  him.  Behold  how  green  this  valley  is,  also  how 
beautified  with  lilies!  (Song  ii.  i.)  I have  also  known  many  labouring 


28o 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Men  thrive  men  that  have  got  good  estates  in  this  Valley  of  Humiliation; 
of  HumiUa-5,  f°r  ‘God  resisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  to  the  humble.’ 
tion.  (James  iv.  6;  I.  Pet.  v.  5.)  Indeed,  it  is  a very  fruitful  soil,  and 

doth  bring  forth  by  handfulls.  Some  also  have  wished  that 
the  next  way  to  their  Father’s  house  were  here,  that  they  might  be  troubled 
no  more  with  either  hills  or  mountains  to  go  over;  but  the  way  is  the  way, 
and  there’s  an  end.’’ 

Now,  as  they  were  going  along  and  talking,  they  espied  a boy  feeding  his 
father’s  sheep.  The  boy  was  in  very  mean  clothes,  but  of  a very  fresh  and 
well-favoured  countenance;  and  as  he  sat  by  himself,  he  sang.  “Hark,” 
said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “to  what  the  shepherd’s  boy  saith.”  So  they 
hearkened,  and  he  said: 

“He  that  is  down  needs  fear  no  fall; 

He  that  is  low,  no  pride; 

He  that  is  humble,  ever  shall 
Have  God  to  be  his  guide. 

“ I am  content  with  what  I have, 

Little  be  it  or  much; 

And,  Lord,  contentment  still  I crave, 

Because  Thou  savest  such. 

“Fulness  to  such  a burden  is, 

That  go  on  pilgrimage; 

Here  little,  and  hereafter  bliss, 

Is  best  from  age  to  age.” 

Then  said  their  guide,  “Do  you  hear  him?  I will  dare  to  say  that  this 
boy  lives  a merrier  life,  and  wears  more  of  that  herb  called  heart’s-ease  in 
his  bosom,  than  he  that  is  clad  in  silk  and  velvet.  But  we  will  proceed  in 
our  discourse. 

“In  this  valley  our  Lord  formerly  had  His  country  house:  He  loved 
much  to  be  here.  He  loved  also  to  walk  these  meadows,  for 
He  found  the  air  was  pleasant.  Besides,  here  a man  shall  be 
free  from  the  noise  and  from  the  hurryings  of  this  life.  All 
states  are  full  of  noise  and  confusion,  only  the  Valley  of 
Humiliation  is  that  empty  and  solitary  place.  Here  a man 
shall  not  be  so  let  and  hindered  in  his  contemplation  as  in 
other  places  he  is  apt  to  be.  This  is  a valley  that  nobody 
walks  in  but  those  that  love  a pilgrim’s  life.  And  though  Christian  had  the 


Christ,  when 
in  the  flesh, 
had  His 
country 
house  in  the 
Valley  of 
Humiliation. 


THE  SHEPHERD  BOY 


THE  PLACE  WHERE  CHRISTIAN  FOUGHT  APOLLYON. 


283 


hard  hap  to  meet  here  with  Apollyon,  and  to  enter  with  him  into  a brisk 
encounter,  yet  I must  tell  you  that  in  former  times  men  have  met  with 
angels  here  (Hos.  xii.  4,  5),  have  found  pearls  here  (Matt.  xiii.  46),  and  have 
in  this  place  found  the  words  of  life  (Prov.  viii.  35). 

“Did  I say,  our  Lord  had  here  in  former  days  His  country  house, 
and  that  He  loved  here  to  walk?  I will  add,  in  this  place,  and  to 
the  people  that  love  to  trace  these  grounds,  He  has  left  a yearly  reve- 
nue, to  be  faithfully  paid  them  at  certain  seasons,  for  their  maintenance 
by  the  way,  and  for  their  further  encouragement  to  go  on  in  their  pil- 
grimage." 

Sam.  Now,  as  they  went  on,  Samuel  said  to  Mr.  Great-heart,  “Sir,  I per- 
ceive that  in  this  valley  my  father  and  Apollyon  had  their  battle;  but 
whereabout  was  the  fight?  for  I perceive  this  valley  is  large." 

Great.  Your  father  had  that  battle  with  Apollyon  at  a place  yonder 
before  us,  in  a narrow  passage  just  beyond  Forgetful  Green.  And,  indeed, 
that  place  is  the  most  dangerous  place  in  all  these  parts.  For,  if  at  any 
time  the  pilgrims  meet  with  any  brunt,  it  is  when  they  forget  what  favours 
they  have  received,  and  how  unworthy  they  are  of  them.  This  is  the  place 
also  where  others  have  been  hard  put  to  it.  But  more  of  the  place  when 
we  are  come  to  it;  for  I persuade  myself,  that  to  this  day  there  remains 
either  some  sign  of  the  battle,  or  some  monument  to  testify  that  such  a 
battle  there  was  fought. 

Mer.  Then  said  Meiry,  “ I think  that  I am  as  well  in  this  valley  as  I 
have  been  anywhere  else  in  all  our  journey:  the  place,  me- 
thinks,  suits  with  my  spirit.  I love  to  be  in  such  places,  where  ^et' ^race 
there  is  no  rattling  with  coaches  nor  rumbling  with  wheels. 

Methinks  here  one  may,  without  much  molestation,  be  thinking  what  he  is, 
whence  he  came,  what  he  has  done,  and  to  what  the  King  has  called  him. 
Here  one  may  think,  and  break  at  heart,  and  melt  in  one’s  spirit,  until  one’s 
eyes  become  like  the  fish-pools  in  Heshbon.  (Song  vii.  4.)  They  that  go 
rightly  through  this  Valley  of  Baca,  make  it  a well;  the  rain  that  God  sends 
down  from  heaven  upon  them  that  are  here  also  filleth  the  pools.  This 
valley  is  that  from  whence  also  the  King  will  give  to  His  their  vineyards; 
and  they  that  go  through  it  shall  sing,  as  Christian  did,  for  all  he  met  with 
Apollyon.”  (Psa.  lxxxiv.  5 — 7;  Hos.  ii.  15.) 

Great.  “ T is  true,"  said  their  guide;  “I  have  gone  through  this  valley 
many  a time,  and  never  was  better  than  when  here.  1 have  also  been  a 


284 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


conductor  to  several  pilgrims,  and  they  have  confessed  the  same.  ‘To  this 
man  will  I look,’  saith  the  King,  ‘even  to  him  that  is  poor  and  of  a contrite 
spirit,  and  that  trembleth  at  my  word.”’  (Isa.  lxvi.  2.) 

Now  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  the  afore-mentioned  battle  was 
fought.  Then  said  the  guide  to  Christiana,  her  children,  and  Mercy,  “This 
is  the  place;  on  this  ground  Christian  stood,  and  up  there  came  Apollyon 
against  him.  And  look — did  not  I tell  you? — here  is  some  of  your  hus- 
band’s blood  upon  these  stones  to  this  day.  Behold,  also,  how  here  and 
there  are  yet  to  be  seen  upon  the  place  some  of  the  shivers  of  Apollyon's 
broken  darts.  See  also  how  they  did  beat  the  ground  with  their  feet  as 
they  fought,  to  make  good  their  places  against  each  other;  how  also,  with 
their  by-blows,  they  did  split  the  very  stones  in  pieces.  Verily,  Christian 
did  here  play  the  man,  and  showed  himself  as  stout  as  could,  had  he  been 
there,  even  Hercules  himself.  When  Apollyon  was  beat,  he  made  his 
retreat  to  the  next  valley,  that  is  called  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
unto  which  we  shall  come  anon.  Lo,  yonder  also  stands  a monument,  on 
which  is  engraven  this  battle,  and  Christian’s  victory,  to  his  fame  through- 
out all  ages.” 

So,  because  it  stood  just  on  the  way-side  before  them,  they  stepped  to  it, 
and  read  the  writing,  which  word  for  word  was  this: 


“ Hard  by  here  was  a battle  fought, 

Most  strange,  and  yet  most  true; 

Christian  and  Apollyon  sought 
Each  other  to  subdue. 

“The  man  so  bravely  played  the  man, 

He  made  the  fiend  to  fly; 

Of  which  a monument  I stand, 

The  same  to  testify.” 

When  they  had  passed  by  this  place,  they  came  upon  the  borders  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death.  This  valley  was  longer  than  the  other;  a place  also 
most  strangely  haunted  with  evil  things,  as  many  are  able  to  testify;  but 
these  women  and  children  went  the  better  through  it,  because  they  had  day- 
light, and  because  Mr.  Great-heart  was  their  conductor. 

When  they  were  entered  upon  this  valley,  they  thought  that  they  heard 
a groaning,  as  of  dead  men — a very  great  groaning.  They  thought  also 
that  they  did  hear  words  of  lamentation  spoken,  as  of  some  in  extreme 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH. 


285 


torment.  These  things  made  the  boys  to  quake;  the  women  also  looked 
pale  and  wan ; but  their  guide  bid  them  be  of  good  comfort. 

So  they  went  on  a little  farther,  and  they  thought  that  they  felt  the 
ground  begin  to  shake  under  them,  as  if  some  hollow  place  was  there; 
they  heard  also  a kind  of  hissing,  as  of  serpents;  but  nothing  as  yet 
appeared.  Then  said  the  boys,  “Are  we  not  yet  at  the  end  of  this  doleful 
place?”  But  the  guide  also  bid  them  be  of  good  courage,  and  look  well 
to  their  feet;  “lest  haply,”  said  he,  “you  be  taken  in  some  snare.” 

Now  James  began  to  be  sick;  but  I think  the  cause  thereof  was  fear;  so 
his  mother  gave  him  some  of  that  glass  of  spirits  that  had  been  given  her 
at  the  Interpreter's  house,  and  three  of  the  pills  that  Mr.  Skill  had  pre- 
pared; and  the  boy  began  to  revive.  Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  to 
about  the  middle  of  the  valley;  and  then  Christiana  said,  “Methinks  I see 
something  yonder  upon  the  road  before  us,  a thing  of  such  a shape  as  I ' 
have  not  seen.”  Then  said  Joseph,  “Mother,  what  is  it?"  “An  ugly  thing, 
child,  an  ugly  thing,”  said  she.  “But,  mother,  what  is  it  like?"  said  he. 
“’T  is  like  I cannot  tell  what,”  said  she,  “and  now  it  is  but  a little  way  off.” 
Then  said  she,  “It  is  nigh!” 

“Well,  well,”  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “let  them  that  are  most  afraid  keep 
close  to  me.”  So  the  fiend  came  on,  and  the  conductor  met  it;  but,  when 
it  was  just  come  to  him,  it  vanished  to  all  their  sights.  Then  remembered 
they  what  had  been  said  some  time  ago,  “Resist  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee 
from  you.”  (James  iv.  7.) 

They  went  therefore  on,  as  being  a little  refreshed.  But  they  had  not 
gone  far  before  Mercy,  looking  behind  her,  saw,  as  she  thought,  something 
most  like  a lion,  and  it  came  a great  padding  pace  after;  and  it  had  a hollow 
voice  of  roaring,  and  at  every  roar  that  it  gave  it  made  all  the  valley  echo, 
and  all  their  hearts  to  ache,  save  the  heart  of  him  that  was  their  guide.  So 
it  came  up,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went  behind,  and  put  the  pilgrims  all  before 
him.  The  lion  also  came  on  apace,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  addressed  himself 
to  give  him  battle.  (I.  Pet.  v.  8,  9.)  But,  when  he  saw  that  it  was 
determined  that  resistance  should  be  made,  he  also  drew  back,  and  came  no 
farther. 

They  then  went  on  again,  and  their  conductor  did  go  before  them,  till 
they  came  to  a place  where  was  cast  up  a pit  the  whole  breadth  of  the  way; 
and  before  they  could  be  prepared  to  go  over  that,  a great  mist  and  darkness 
fell  upon  them,  so  that  they  could  not  see.  Then  said  the  pilgrims,  “Alas! 


286 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


what  now  shall  we  do?"  But  their  guide  made  answer,  “Fear  not,  stand 
still,  and  see  what  an  end  will  be  put  to  this  also.”  So  they  stayed  there, 
because  their  path  was  marred.  They  then  also  thought  that  they  did  hear 
more  apparently  the  noise  and  rushing  of  the  enemies;  the  fire  also,  and 
the  smoke  of  the  pit,  were  much  easier  to  be  discerned.  Then  said 
Christiana  to  Mercy,  “ Now  I see  what  my  poor  husband  went  through.  I 
have  heard  much  of  this  place,  but  I never  was  here  before  now.  Poor 
man!  he  went  here  all  alone  in  the  night:  he  had  night  almost  quite 
through  the  way;  also  these  fiends  were  busy  about  him,  as  if  they  would 
have  torn  him  in  pieces.  Many  have  spoken  of  it,  but  none  can  tell  what 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  should  mean,  until  they  come  in  it 
themselves.  ‘The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,  and  a stranger 
intermeddleth  not  with  its  joy.’  (Prov.  xiv.  io.)  To  be  here  is  a fearful 
thing." 

Great.  This  is  like  doing  business  in  great  waters,  or  like  going  down 
into  the  deep.  This  is  like  being  in  the  heart  of  the  sea,  and  like  going 
down  to  the  bottoms  of  the  mountains.  Now  it  seems  as  if  the  earth,  with 
its  bars,  were  about  us  for  ever.  But  let  them  that  walk  in  darkness  and 
have  no  light,  trust  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  stay  upon  their  God. 
(Isa.  1.  io.)  For  my  part,  as  I have  told  you  already,  I have  gone  often 
through  this  valley,  and  have  been  much  harder  put  to  it  than  now  I am; 
and  yet,  you  see,  I am  alive.  I would  not  boast,  for  that  I am  not  mine 
own  saviour;  but  I trust  we  shall  have  a good  deliverance.  Come,  let  us 
pray  for  light  to  Him  that  can  lighten  our  darkness,  and  that  can  rebuke 
not  only  these,  but  all  the  Satans  in  hell. 

So  they  cried  and  prayed,  and  God  sent  light  and  deliverance;  for  there 
was  now  no  let  in  their  way;  no,  not  there  where  but  now  they  were 
stopped  with  a pit.  Yet  they  were  not  got  through  the  valley;  so  they 
went  on  still;  and  behold,  great  stinks  and  loathsome  smells,  to  the  great 
annoyance  of  them.  Then  said  Mercy  to  Christiana,  “ It  is  not  so  pleasant 
being  here  as  at  the  gate,  or  at  the  Interpreter's,  or  at  the  house  where  we 
lay  last.” 

“Oh,  but,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  “it  is  not  so  bad  to  go  through  here  as 
it  is  to  abide  here  always;  and,  for  aught  I know,  one  reason  why  we  must 
go  this  way  to  the  house  prepared  for  us  is,  that  our  home  might  be  made 
the  sweeter  to  us." 

“Well  said,  Samuel,"  quoth  the  guide;  “thou  hast  now  spoke  like  a man." 


GIANT  MAUL  APPEARS. 


287 


“Why,  if  ever  I get  out  here  again,"  said  the  boy,  “I  think  I shall  prize 
light  and  good  way  better  than  ever  I did  in  all  my  life.” 

Then  said  the  guide,  “We  shall  be  out  by-and-bye.” 

So  on  they  went,  and  Joseph  said,  “Cannot  we  see  to  the  end  of  this 
valley  as  yet?” 

Then  said  the  guide,  “ Look  to  your  feet,  for  we  shall  presently  be  among 
the  snares.” 

So  they  looked  to  their  feet,  and  went  on;  but  they  were  troubled  much 
with  the  snares.  Now,  when  they  were 
come  among  the  snares,  they  espied  a 
man  cast  into  the  ditch  on  the  left  hand, 
with  his  flesh  all  rent  and  torn. 

Then  said  the  guide,  “That  is  one 
Heedless,  that  was  going  this  way;  he 
has  lain  there  a great  while.  There  was 
one  Take-heed  with  him  when  he  was 
taken  and  slain,  but  he  escaped  their 
hands.  You  cannot  imagine  how  many 
are  killed  hereabouts;  and  yet  men  are 
so  foolishly  venturous  as  to  set  out 
lightly  on  pilgrimage,  and  to  come  with- 
out a guide.  Poor  Christian ! it  is  a 
wonder  that  he  here  escaped;  but  he 
was  beloved  of  his  God,  also  he  had  a 
good  heart  of  his  own,  or  else  he  could 
never  have  done  it.” 

Now  they  drew  towards  the  end  of 
the  way;  and  just  where  Christian  had 
seen  the  cave  when  he  went  by,  out 
thence  came  forth  Maul,  a giant.  This  Maul  did  use  to  spoil  young  pil- 
grims with  sophistry;  and  he  called  Great-heart  by  his  name,  and  said  unto 
him,  “How  many  times  have  you  been  forbidden  to  do  these  things?” 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “What  things?” 

“What  things!”  quoth  the  giant;  “you  know  what  things;  but  I will  put 
an  end  to  your  trade.” 

“But  pray,”  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “before  we  fall  to  it,  let  us  understand 
wherefore  we  must  fight.” 


288 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Now,  the  women  and  children  stood  trembling,  and  knew  not  what  to  do. 

Quoth  the  giant,  “You  rob  the  country,  and  rob  it  with  the  worst  of 
thefts.” 

“These  are  but  generals,”  said  Mr.  Great-heart;  “come  to  particulars, 
man.” 

Then  said  the  giant,  “Thou  practisest  the  craft  of  a kidnapper:  thou 
gatherest  up  women  and  children,  and  carriest  them  into  a strange  country, 
to  the  weakening  of  my  master’s  kingdom.” 

But  now  Great-heart  replied,  “ I am  a 
servant  of  the  God  of  heaven ; my 
business  is  to  persuade  sinners  to  re- 
pentance. I am  commanded  to  do  my 
endeavour  to  turn  men,  women,  and 
children  from  darkness  to  light,  and 
from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God; 
and,  if  this  be  indeed  the  ground  of  thy 
quarrel,  let  us  fall  to  it  as  soon  as  thou 
wilt." 

Then  the  giant  came  up,  and  Mr. 

Great-heart  went  to  meet  him;  and,  as 

he  went,  he  drew  his  sword,  but  the 

giant  had  a club.  So  without  more  ado 

they  fell  to  it;  and,  at  the 

\\  eak  folks  f,rst  blow,  the  giant  struck 
prayers  do  ’ o 

sometimes  Mr.  Great-heart  down  upon 

help  strong  one  f ]cnees  With 

folks  cries. 

that,  the  women  and  chil- 
dren cried  out.  So  Mr.  Great-heart, 
recovering  himself,  laid  about  him  in 
full  lusty  manner,  and  gave  the  giant  a wound  in  his  arm.  Thus  he  fought 
for  the  space  of  an  hour,  to  that  height  of  heat,  that  the  breath  came  out  of 
the  giant’s  nostrils  as  the  heat  doth  out  of  a boiling  cauldron. 

Then  they  sat  down  to  rest  them;  but  Mr.  Great-heart  betook  himself  to 
prayer.  Also  the  women  and  children  did  nothing  but  sigh  and  cry  all  the 
time  that  the  battle  did  last. 

When  they  had  rested  them,  and  taken  breath,  they  both  fell  to  it  again; 
and  Mr.  Great-heart  with  a blow  fetched  the  giant  down  to  the  ground. 


GIANT  MAUL. 


GREAT-HEART  ENCOUNTERS  MAUL. 


289 


“ Nay,  hold,  and  let  me  recover,”  quoth  he.  So  Mr.  Great-heart  fairly  let 
him  get  up:  so  to  it  they  went  again;  and  the  giant  missed  but  little  of  all- 
to-breaking  Mr.  Great-heart’s  skull  with  his  club. 

Mr.  Great-heart  seeing  that,  runs  to  him  in  the  full  heat  of  his  spirit,  and 
pierceth  him  under  the  fifth  rib.  With  that  the  giant  began  to  faint,  and 
could  hold  up  his  club  no  longer.  Then  Mr.  Great-heart  seconded  his 
blow,  and  smote  the  head  of  the  giant  from  his  shoulders.  Then  the 
women  and  children  rejoiced,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  also  praised  God  for  the 
deliverance  He  had  wrought. 

When  this  was  done,  they  amongst  them  erected  a pillar,  and  fastened 
the  giant’s  head  thereon,  and  wrote  under  it  in  letters  that  passengers 
might  read : 

“ He  that  did  wear  this  head,  was  one 
That  pilgrims  did  misuse ; 

He  stopped  their  way,  he  spared  none, 

But  did  them  all  abuse; 

Until  that  I,  Great-heart,  arose, 

The  pilgrims’  guide  to  be ; 

Until  that  I did  him  oppose 
That  was  their  enemy.” 


Now,  I saw  that  they  went  to  the  ascent  that  was  a little  way  off,  cast  up 
to  be  a prospect  for  pilgrims.  That. was  the  place  from  whence  Christian 
had  the  first  sight  of  Faithful  his  brother.  Wherefore  here  they  sat  down 
and  rested.  They  also  here  did  eat  and  drink  and  make  merry,  for  that 
they  had  gotten  deliverance  from  this  so  dangerous  an  enemy.  As  they 
sat  thus  and  did  eat,  Christiana  asked  the  guide  if  he  had  caught  no  hurt 
in  the  battle.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “No,  save  a little  on  my  flesh; 
yet  that  also  shall  be  so  far  from  being  to  my  detriment,  that  it  is  at  present 
a proof  of  my  love  to  my  Master  and  you,  and  shall  be  a means,  by  grace, 
to  increase  my  reward  at  last.” 

Chr.  But  were  you  not  afraid,  good  sir,  when  you  saw  him  come  out 
with  his  club? 

Great.  “ It  is  my  duty,”  said  he,  “ to  mistrust  my  own  ability,  that  I may 
have  reliance  on  Him  who  is  stronger  than  all.” 

Chr.  But  what  did  you  think  when  he  fetched  you  down  to  the  ground 
at  the  first  blow? 

Great.  “Why,  I thought,”  replied  he,  “that  so  my  Master  Himself  was 


1!) 


290 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


* 


served;  and  yet  He  it  was  that  conquered  at  the  last.”  (II.  Cor.  iv.  10,  1 1 ; 
Rom.  viii.  37.) 

Matt.  When  you  all  have  thought  what  you  please,  I think  God  has 
been  wonderful  good  unto  us,  both  in  bringing  us  out  of  this  valley, 
and  in  delivering  us  out  of  the  hand  of  this  enemy.  For  my  part,  I 
see  no  reason  why  we  should  distrust  our  God  any  more,  since  He  has 
now,  and  in  such  a place  as  this,  given  us  such  testimony  of  His  love 
as  this. 

Then  they  got  up  and  went  forward.  Now,  a little  before  them  stood 
an  oak;  and  under  it,  when  they  came  to  it,  they  found  an  old  pilgrim  fast 
asleep.  They  knew  that  he  was  a pilgrim  by  his  clothes,  and  his  staff,  and 
his  girdle. 

So  the  guide,  Mr.  Great-heart,  awaked  him;  and  the  old  gentleman,  as 
he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  cried  out,  “What  s the  matter?  who  are  you,  and 
what  is  your  business  here?” 

Great.  Come,  man,  be  not  so  hot;  here  are  none  but 


One  saint 

sometimes 

takes 

another  for 
his  enemy. 


friends. 

Yet  the  old  man  gets  up,  and  stands  upon  his  guard,  and 
will  know  of  them  what  they  are.  Then  said  the  guide,  “My 
name  is  Great-heart;  I am  the  guide  of  these  pilgrims,  that  are 
going  to  the  Celestial  Country.” 

Honest.  Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  “I  cry  you  mercy:  I feared  that  you 
had  been  of  the  company  of  those  that  some  time  ago  did  rob  Little-Faith 
of  his  money;  but  now  I look  better  about  me  I perceive  you  are  honester 
people.” 

Great.  Why,  what  would  or  could  you  have  done  to  have  helped 
yourself,  if  we  indeed  had  been  of  that  company? 

Hon.  Done!  why,  I would  have  fought  as  long  as  breath  had  been  in 
me;  and,  had  I so  done,  I am  sure  you  could  never  have  given  me  the 
worst  on  t,  for  a Christian  can  never  be  overcome  unless  he  shall  yield  of 
himself. 


Great.  “Well  said,  Father  Honest,”  quoth  the  guide:  “for  by  this  I 
know  thou  art  a cock  of  the  right  kind,  for  thou  hast  said  the  truth.” 

Hon.  And  by  this  also  I know  that  thou  knowest  what  true  pilgrimage 
is;  for  all  others  do  think  that  we  are  the  soonest  overcome  of  any. 

Great.  Well,  now  we  are  so  happily  met,  pray  let  me  crave  your  name, 
and  the  name  of  the  place  you  came  from. 


OLD  HONEST, 


. 


OLD  HONEST. 


293 


Hon.  My  name  I cannot;  but  I came  from  the  town  of  Stupidity;  it  lieth 
about  four  degrees  beyond  the  City  of  Destruction. 

Great.  Oh!  are  you  that  countryman?  then  I deem  I have  half  a guess 
of  you:  your  name  is  old  Honesty,  is  it  not? 

Hon.  So  the  old  gentleman  blushed,  and  said,  “Not  Honesty  in  the 
abstract,  but  Honest  is  my  name;  and  I wish  that  my  nature  may  agree  to 
what  I am  called.  But,  sir,”  said  the  old  gentleman,  “how  could  you  guess 
that  I am  such  a man,  since  I came  from  such  a place?” 

Great.  I had  heard  of  you  before  by  my  Master;  for  He 


knows  all  things  that  are  done  on  the  earth.  But  I have  often 


Stupefied 
ones  are 
worse  than 
those  merely 
carnal. 


wondered  that  any  should  come  from  your  place,  for  your 
town  is  worse  than  is  the  City  of  Destruction  itself. 

Hon.  Yes,  we  lie  more  off  from  the  sun,  and  so  are  more 
cold  and  senseless.  But  were  a man  in  a mountain  of  ice,  yet  if  the  Sun 
of  Righteousness  should  rise  upon  him,  his  frozen  heart  shall  feel  a thaw; 
and  thus  it  hath  been  with  me. 

Great.  I believe  it,  Father  Honest,  I believe  it;  for  I know  the  thing 
is  true. 

Then  the  old  gentleman  saluted  all  the  pilgrims  with  a holy  kiss  of 
charity,  and  asked  them  their  names,  and  how  they  had  fared  since  they  had 
set  out  on  their  pilgrimage. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  “My  name  I suppose  you  have  heard  of: 
good  Christian  was  my  husband,  and  these  are  his  children.” 

But  can  you  think  how  the  old  gentleman  was  taken  when  she  told  him 
who  she  was?  He  skipped,  he  smiled,  he  blessed  them  with  a thousand 
good  wishes,  saying: 

Hon.  I have  heard  much  of  your  husband,  and  of  his  travels  and  wars 
which  he  underwent  in  his  days.  Be  it  spoken  to  your  comfort,  the  name 
of  your  husband  rings  all  over  these  parts  of  the  world:  his  faith,  his 
courage,  his  enduring,  and  his  sincerity  under  all,  have  made  his  name 
famous.  Then  he  turned  him  to  the  boys,  and  asked  of  them  their  names, 
which  they  told  him.  Then  he  said  unto  them,  “Matthew,  be  thou  like 
Matthew  the  publican,  not  in  vice,  but  in  virtue.  (Matt.  x.  3.)  Samuel,” 
said  he,  “be  thou  like  Samuel  the  prophet,  a man  of  faith  and  prayer. 
(Psa.  xcix.  6.)  Joseph,”  said  lie,  “be  thou  like  Joseph  in  Potiphar’s  house, 
chaste,  and  one  that  flees  from  temptation.  (Gen.  xxxix.)  And  James,  be 
thou  like  James  the  Just,  and  like  James  the  brother  of  our  Lord.”  (Acts 


294 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


i.  13.)  Then  they  told  him  of  Mercy,  and  how  she  had  left  her  town  and 
her  kindred  to  come  along  with  Christiana  and  with  her  sons.  At  that,  the 
old  honest  man  said,  “Mercy  is  thy  name?  by  Mercy  shalt  thou  be  sus- 
tained and  carried  through  all  those  difficulties  that  shall  assault  thee  in  thy 
way,  till  thou  shalt  come  thither  where  thou  shalt  look  the  Fountain  of 
Mercy  in  the  face  with  comfort.” 

All  this  while  the  guide,  Mr.  Great-heart,  was  very  well  pleased  and 
smiled  upon  his  companion. 

Now,  as  they  walked  along  together,  the  guide  asked  the  old  gentleman 
if  he  did  not  know  one  Mr.  Fearing,  that  came  on  pilgrimage  out  of  his 
parts. 

Hon.  “Yes,  very  well,”  said  he.  “He  was  a man  that  had  the  root  of 
the  matter  in  him;  but  he  was  one  of  the  most  troublesome  pilgrims  that 
ever  I met  with  in  all  my  days.” 

Great.  I perceive  you  knew  him,  for  you  have  given  a very  right 
character  of  him. 

Hon.  Knew  him!  I was  a great  companion  of  his;  I was  with  him  most 
an  end:  when  he  first  began  to  think  upon  what  would  come  upon  us  here- 
after, I was  with  him. 

Great.  I was  his  guide  from  my  master's  house  to  the  gates  of  the 
Celestial  City. 

H on.  Then  you  knew  him  to  be  a troublesome  one? 

Great.  I did  so;  but  I could  very  well  bear  it,  for  men  of  my  calling 
are  oftentimes  entrusted  with  the  conduct  of  such  as  he  was. 

Hon.  Well,  then,  pray  let  us  hear  a little  of  him,  and  how  he  managed 
himself  under  your  conduct. 

Great.  Why,  he  was  always  afraid  that  he  should  come  short  of  whither 
he  had  a desire  to  go.  Everything  frightened  him  that  he  heard  anybody 
speak  of,  if  it  had  but  the  least  appearance  of  opposition  in  it.  I hear  that 
he  lay  roaring  at  the  Slough  of  Despond  for  above  a month  together;  nor 
durst  he,  for  all  he  saw  several  go  over  before  him,  venture,  though  they, 
many  of  them,  offered  to  lend  him  their  hand.  He  would  not  go  back 
again  neither.  The  Celestial  City,  he  said,  he  should  die  if  he  came  not  to 
it;  and  yet  was  dejected  at  every  difficulty,  and  stumbled  at  every  straw 
that  anybody  cast  in  his  way.  Well,  after  "he  had  lain  at  the  Slough  of 
Despond  a great  while,  as  I have  told  you,  one  sunshine  morning,  I don't 
know  how,  he  ventured,  and  so  got  over;  but,  when  he  was  over,  he  would 


Here  also  he  stood  a good  while  before  he  would  adventure  to  knock.' 


. 


* 


GREAT-HEART  RELATES  THE  TRIALS  OF  FEARING. 


297 


scarce  believe  it.  He  had,  I think,  a Slough  of  Despond  in  his  mind,  a 
slough  that  he  carried  everywhere  with  him,  or  else  he  could  never  have 
been  as  he  was.  So  he  came  up  to  the  gate  (you  know  what  I mean)  that 
stands  at  the  head  of  this  way,  and  there  also  he  stood  a good  while  before 
he  would  adventure  to  knock.  When  the  gate  was  opened,  he  would  give 
back,  and  give  place  to  others,  and  say  that  he  was  not  worthy.  For,  for 
all  he  got  before  some  to  the  gate,  yet  many  of  them  went  in  before  him. 

There  the  poor  man  would  stand  shaking  and  shrinking:  I dare  say  it 

would  have  pitied  one’s  heart  to  have  seen  him.  Nor  would  he  go  back 
again.  At  last,  he  took  the  hammer  that  hanged  on  the  gate  in  his  hand, 
and  gave  a small  rap  or  two;  then  One  opened  to  him,  but  he  shrank  back 
as  before.  He  that  opened  stepped  out  after  him,  and  said,  “Thou 

trembling  one,  what  wantest  thou?”  With  that,  he  fell  down  to  the 

ground.  He  that  spoke  to  him  wondered  to  see  him  so  faint;  so  He  said 
to  him,  “Peace  be  to  thee:  up,  for  I have  set  open  the  door  to  thee;  come 
in,  for  thou  art  blessed.”  With  that,  he  got  up,  and  went  in  trembling;  and 
when  he  was  in,  he  was  ashamed  to  show  his  face.  Well,  after  he  had  been 
entertained  there  awhile,  as  you  know  how  the  manner  is,  he  was  bid  go  on 
his  way,  and  also  told  the  way  he  should  take.  So  he  came  till  he  came  to 
our  house;  but  as  he  behaved  himself  at  the  gate,  so  he  did  at  my  master 
the  Interpreter’s  door.  He  lay  thereabout  in  the  cold  a good  while  before 
he  would  adventure  to  call:  yet  he  would  not  go  back;  and  the  nights  were 
long  and  cold  then.  Nay,  he  had  a note  of  necessity  in  his  bosom  to  my 
master,  to  receive  him  and  grant  him  the  comfort  of  his  house,  and  also  to 
allow  him  a stout  and  valiant  conductor,  because  he  was  himself  so  chicken- 
hearted  a man;  and  yet,  for  all  that,  he  was  afraid  to  call  at  the  door.  So 
he  lay  up  and  down  thereabouts,  till,  poor  man,  he  was  almost  starved;  yea, 
so  great  was  his  dejection,  though  he  had  seen  several  others  for  knocking 
get  in,  yet  he  was  afraid  to  venture.  At  last,  I think  I looked  out  of  the 
window,  and  perceiving  a man  to  be  up  and  down  about  the  door,  1 went 
out  to  him,  and  asked  what  he  was;  but,  poor  man,  the  water  stood  in  his 
eyes;  so  I perceived  what  he  wanted.  I went  therefore  in,  and  told  it  in 
the  house,  and  we  showed  the  thing  to  our  lord:  so  he  sent  me  out  again, 
to  entreat  him  to  come  in;  but  I dare  say  I had  hard  work  to  do  it.  At 
last  he  came  in;  and  I will  say  that  for  my  lord,  he  carried  it  wonderful 
lovingly  to  him.  There  were  but  few  good  bits  at  the  table,  but  some  of  it 
was  laid  uoon  his  trencher.  Then,  he  presented  the  note;  and  my  lord 


298 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


looked  thereon,  and  said  his  desire  should  be  granted.  So,  when  he  had 
been  there  a good  while,  he  seemed  to  get  some  heart,  and  to  be  a little 
more  comfortable.  For  my  master,  you  must  know,  is  one  of  very  tender 
bowels,  specially  to  them  that  are  afraid;  wherefore  he  carried  it  so  towards 
him  as  might  tend  most  to  his  encouragement.  Well,  when  he  had  had  a # 
sight  of  the  things  of  the  place,  and  was  ready  to  take  his  journey  to  go  to 
the  City,  my  lord,  as  he  did  to  Christian  before,  gave  him  a bottle  ol  spirits, 
and  some  comfortable  things  to  eat.  Thus  we  set  forward,  and  I went 
before  him;  but  the  man  was  but  of  few  words,  only  he  would  sigh  aloud. 

When  we  were  come  to  the  place  where  the  three  fellows  were  hanged, 
he  said  that  he  doubted  that  that  would  be  his  end  also.  Only  he  seemed 
glad  when  he  saw  the  Cross  and  the  sepulchre.  There,  I confess,  he 
desired  to  stay  a little  to  look;  and  he  seemed,  for  a little  while  after,  to  be 
a little  cheery.  When  we  came  at  the  Hill  Difficulty,  he  made  no  stick  at 
that,  nor  did  he  much  fear  the  lions,  for  you  must  know  that  his  trouble 
was  not  about  such  things  as  those;  his  fear  was  about  his  acceptance  at 
last. 

I got  him  in  at  the  House  Beautiful,  I think,  before  he  was  willing. 
Also,  when  he  was  in,  I brought  him  acquainted  with  the  damsels  that 
were  of  the  place;  but  he  was  ashamed  to  make  himself  much  for  company. 
He  desired  much  to  be  alone;  yet  he  always  loved  good  talk,  and  often 
would  get  behind  the  screen  to  hear  it.  He  also  loved  much  to  see  ancient 
things,  and  to  be  pondering  them  in  his  mind.  He  told  me,  afterwards, 
that  he  loved  to  be  in  those  two  houses  from  which  he  came  last;  to  wit,  at 
the  gate,  and  that  of  the  Interpreter;  but  that  he  durst  not  be  so  bold  as  to 
ask. 

When  we  went  also  from  the  House  Beautiful,  down  the  hill  into  the 
Valley  of  Humiliation,  he  went  down  as  well  as  ever  I saw  a man  in  my 
life;  for  he  cared  not  how  mean  he  was,  so  he  might  be  happy  at  last.  Yea, 

I think  there  was  a kind  of  sympathy  betwixt  that  valley  and  him;  for  I 
never  saw  him  better  in  all  his  pilgrimage  than  when  he  was  in  that  valley. 

Here  he  would  lie  down,  embrace  the  ground,  and  kiss  the  very  flowers 
that  grew  in  this  valley.  (Lam.  iii.  27 — 29.)  He  would  now  be  up  every 
morning  by  break  of  day,  tracing  and  walking  to  and  fro  in  this  valley. 

But  when  he  was  come  to  the  entrance  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death,  I thought  I should  have  lost  my  man:  not  for  that  he  had  any 
inclination  to  go  back — that  he  always  abhorred;  but  he  was  ready  to  die 


FEARING  PLAYS  THE  MAN  AT  VANITY  FAIR. 


299 


for  fear.  “Oh,  the  hobgoblins  will  have  me!  the  hobgoblins  will  have  me!” 
cried  he,  and  I could  not  beat  him  out  of  it.  He  made  such  a noise  and 
such  an  outcry  here,  that,  had  they  but  heard  him,  it  was  enough  to  encour- 
age them  to  come  and  fall  upon  us. 

But  this  I took  very  great  notice  of,  that  this  valley  was  as  quiet  while 
we  went  through  it  as  ever  I knew  it  before  or  since.  I suppose  those 
enemies  here  had  now  a special  check  from  our  Lord,  and  a command  not 
to  meddle  until  Mr.  Fearing  had  passed  over  it. 

It  would  be  too  tedious  to  tell  you  of  all,  I will  therefore  only  mention  a 
passage  or  two  more.  When  he  was  come  at  Vanity  Fair,  I thought  he 
would  have  fought  with  all  the  men  in  the  fair.  I feared  there*  we  should 
both  have  been  knocked  on  the  head,  so  hot  was  he  against  their  fooleries. 
Upon  the  Enchanted  Ground  he  was  also  very  wakeful.  But,  when  he  was 
come  at  the  river  where  was  no  bridge,  there  again  he  was  in  a heavy  case. 
Now,  now,  he  said,  he  should  be  drowned  for  ever,  and  so  never  see  that 
face  with  comfort  that  he  had  come  so  many  miles  to  behold. 

And  here  also  I took  notice  of  what  was  very  remarkable:  the  water  of 
that  river  was  lower  at  this  time  than  ever  I saw  it  in  all  my  life:  so  he 
went  over  at  last,  not  much  above  wetshod.  When  he  was  going  up  to  the 
gate,  I began  to  take  leave  of  him,  and  to  wish  him  a good  reception 
above.  So  he  said,  “ I shall,  I shall.”  Then  parted  we  asunder,  and  I saw 
him  no  more. 

Hon.  Then  it  seems  he  was  well  at  last? 

Great.  Yes,  yes;  I never  had  a doubt  about  him.  He  was  a man  of 
choice  spirit;  only  he  was  always  kept  very  low,  and  that  made  his  life  so 
burthensome  to  himself  and  so  troublesome  to  others.  (Psa.  lxxxviii.) 
He  was,  above  many,  tender  of  sin:  he  was  so  afraid  of  doing  injuries  to 
others,  that  he  often  would  deny  himself  of  that  which  was  lawful,  because 
he  would  not  offend.  (Rom.  xiv.  21 ; I.  Cor.  viii.  13.) 

Hon.  But  what  should  be  the  reason  that  such  a good  man  should  be 
all  his  days  so  much  in  the  dark? 

Great.  There  are  two  sorts  of  reasons  for  it.  One  is,  the  wise  God 
will  have  it  so;  some  must  pipe,  and  some  must  weep.  (Matt.  xi.  16,  17.) 
Now  Mr.  Fearing  was  one  that  played  upon  this  bass.  He 
and  his  fellows  sound  the  sackbut,  whose  notes  are  more  Reasons 
doleful  than  the  notes  of  other  music  are;  though,  indeed,  why  good 
some  say  the  bass  is  the  ground  of  music.  And,  for  my  part,  in  the  dark. 


300 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


I care  not  at  all  for  that  profession  which  begins  not  in  heaviness  of  mind. 
The  first  string  that  the  musician  usually  touches  is  the  bass,  when  he 
intends  to  put  all  in  tune.  God  also  plays  upon  this  string  first,  when  He 
sets  the  soul  in  tune  for  Himself.  Only  here  was  the  imperfection  of  Mr. 
Fearing;  he  could  play  upon  no  other  music  but  this  till  toward  his  latter 
end. 

I make  bold  to  talk  thus  metaphorically,  for  the  ripening  of  the  wits  of 
young  readers,  and  because,  in  the  book  of  the  Revelation,  the  saved  are 
compared  to  a company  of  musicians,  that  play  upon  their  trumpets  and 
harps,  and  sing  their  songs  before  the'throne.  (Rev.  v.  8;  xiv.  2,  3.) 

H on.  He  was  a very  zealous  man,  as  one  may  see  by  the  relation  which 
you  have  given  of  him.  Difficulties,  lions,  or  Vanity  Fair  he  feared  not  at 
all;  it  was  only  sin,  death,  and  hell  that  were  to  him  a terror,  because  he 
had  some  doubts  about  his  interest  in  that  Celestial  Country. 

Great.  You  say  right:  those  were  the  things  that  were  his  troubles,  and 
they,  as  you  have  well  observed,  arose  from  the  weakness  of  his  mind 
thereabout,  not  from  weakness  of  spirit  as  to  the  practical  part  of  a 
pilgrim’s  life.  I dare  believe  that,  as  the  proverb  is,  he  would  have  bit  a 
firebrand,  had  it  stood  in  his  way;  but  the  things  with  which  he  was 
oppressed  no  man  ever  yet  could  shake  off  with  ease. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  “This  relation  of  Mr.  Fearing  has  done  me 
good.  I thought  nobody  had  been  like  me;  but  I see  there  was  some 
semblance  betwixt  this  good  man  and  F,  only  we  differed  in  two  things. 
His  troubles  were  so  great  that  they  brake  out;  but  mine  I kept  within. 
His  also  lay  so  hard  upon  him,  they  made  him  that  he  could  not  knock  at 
the  houses  provided  for  entertainment;  but  my  trouble  was  always  such  as 
made  me  knock  the  louder.” 

Mer.  If  I might  also  speak  my  heart,  I must  say  that  something  of  him 
has  also  dwelt  in  me;  for  I have  ever  been  more  afraid  of  the  lake,  and  the 
loss  of  a place  in  Paradise,  than  I have  been  of  the  loss  of  other  things. 
Oh,  thought  I,  may  1 have  the  happiness  to  have  a habitation  there,  it  is 
enough,  though  I part  with  all  the  world  to  win  it! 

Matt.  Then  said  Matthew,  “Fear  was  one  thing  that  made  me  think 
that  I was  far  from  having  that  within  me  which  accompanies  salvation. 
But  if  it  were  so  with  such  a good  man  as  he,  why  may  it  not  also  go  well 
with  me?” 

James.  “No  fears,  no  grace,”  said  James.  “Though  there  is  not  always 


CHARACTER  OF  SELF-WILL. 


301 


grace  where  there  is  the  fear  of  hell,  yet,  to  be  sure,  there  is  no  grace  where 
there  is  no  fear  of  God.” 

Great.  Well  said,  James;  thou  hast  hit  the  mark.  For  the  fear  of  God 
is  the  beginning  of  wisdom;  and,  to  be  sure,  they  that  want  the  beginning 
have  neither  middle  nor  end.  But  we  will  here  conclude  our  discourse  of 
Mr.  Fearing,  after  we  have  sent  after  him  this  farewell: 


“Well,  Master  Fearing,  thou  didst  fear 
Thy  God,  and  wast  afraid 
Of  doing  anything  while  here 
That  would  have  thee  betrayed. 

“And  didst  thou  fear  the  lake  and  pit? 
Would  others  did  so  too  ! 

For,  as  for  them  that  want  thy  wit, 
They  do  themselves  undo.” 


Now  I saw  that  they  still  went  on  in 
their  talk;  for,  after  Mr.  Great-heart  had 
made  an  end  with  Mr.  Fearing,  Mr. 

Honest  began  to  tell  them  of  another, 
but  his  name  was  Mr.  Self-will.  “lie 
pretended  himself  to  be  a pilgrim,”  said 
Mr.  Honest,  “but  I persuade  myself  he 
never  came  in  at  the  gate  that  stands  at 
the  head  of  the  way.” 

Great.  Had  you  ever  any  talk  with 
him  about  it? 

Hon.  Yes,  more  than  once  or  twice; 
but  he  would  always  be  like  himself, 
self-willed.  He  neither  cared  for  man, 
nor  argument,  nor  yet  example;  what 
his  mind  prompted  him  to,  that  he 
would  do,  and  nothing  else  could  he  be 
got  to  do. 

Great.  Pray,  what  principles  did  he  self-will. 

hold?  for  I suppose  you  can  tell. 

II  on.  He  held  that  a man  might  follow  the  vices  as  well  as  the  virtues 
of  pilgrims;  and  that,  if  he  did  both,  he  should  be  certainly  saved. 


302 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Great.  How!  If  he  had  said  it  is  possible  for  the  best  to  be  guilty  of 
the  vices,  as  well  as  to  partake  of  the  virtues,  of  pilgrims,  he  could  not 
much  have  been  blamed;  for,  indeed,  we  are  exempted  from  no  vice  abso- 
lutely, but  on  condition  that  we  watch  and  strive.  But  this,  I perceive,  is 
not  the  thing;  but,  if  I understood  you  right,  your  meaning  is  that  he  was 
of  opinion  that  it  was  allowable  so  to  be. 

Hon.  Ay,  ay,  so  I mean,  and  so  he  believed  and  practised. 

Great.  But  what  grounds  had  he  for  his  so  saying? 

Hon.  Why,  he  said  he  had  the  Scripture  for  his  warrant. 

Great.  Prithee,  Mr.  Honest,  present  us  with  a few  particulars. 

Hon.  So  I will.  He  said,  To  have  to  do  with  other  men’s  wives  had 
been  practised  by  David,  God’s  beloved ; and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He 
said,  To  have  more  women  than  one  was  a thing  that  Solomon  practised ; 
and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said  that  Sarah  and  the  godly  midwives 
of  Egypt  lied,  and  so  did  Rahab;  and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said 
that  the  disciples  went  at  the  bidding  of  their  Master,  and  took  away  the 
owner’s  ass;  and  therefore  he  could  do  so  too.  He  said  that  Jacob  got  the 
inheritance  of  his  father  in  a way  of  guile  and  dissimulation;  and  therefore 
he  could  do  so  too. 

Great.  Highly  base,  indeed!  And  you  are  sure  he  was  of  this  opinion? 

Hon.  I have  heard  him  plead  for  it,  bring  Scripture  for  it,  bring  argu- 
ment for  it,  etc. 

Great.  An  opinion  that  is  not  fit  to  be  with  any  allowance  in  the 
world ! 

H on.  You  must  understand  me  rightly:  he  did  not  say  that  any  man 
might  do  this;  but  that  they  who  had  the  virtues  of  those  that  did  such 
things,  might  also  do  the  same. 

Great.  But  what  more  false  than  such  a conclusion?  For  this  is  as 
much  as  to  say  that,  because  good  men  heretofore  have  sinned  of  infirmity, 
therefore  he  had  an  allowance  to  do  it  of  a presumptuous  mind;  or  if, 
because  a child,  by  the  blast  of  the  wind,  or  for  that  it  stumbled  at  a stone, 
fell  down  and  defiled  itself  in  the  mire,  therefore  he  might  wilfully  lie  down 
and  wallow  like  a boar  therein.  Who  could  have  thought  that  any  one 
could  so  far  have  been  blinded  by  the  power  of  lust?  But  what  is  written 
must  be  true:  they  “stumble  at  the  Word,  being  disobedient;  whereunto 
also  they  were  appointed.”  (I.  Pet.  ii.  8.)  1 1 is  supposing  that  such  may 

have  the  godly  man’s  virtues,  who  addict  themselves  to  their  vices,  is  also 


HONEST'S  EXPERIENCES. 


303 


a delusion  as  strong  as  the  other.  To  eat  up  the  sin  of  God’s  people  (Hos. 
iv.  8)  as  a dog  licks  up  filth,  is  no  sign  of  one  that  is  possessed  with  their 
virtues.  Nor  can  I believe  that  one  who  is  of  this  opinion  can  at  present 
have  faith  or  love  in  him.  But  I know  you  have  made  strong  objections 
against  him : prithee,  what  can  he  say  for  himself? 

Hon.  Why,  he  says,  “To  do  this  by  way  of  opinion,  seems  abundantly 
more  honest  than  to  do  it  and  yet  hold  contrary  to  it  in  opinion.” 

Great.  A very  wicked  answer.  For,  though  to  let  loose  the  bridle  to 
lusts  while  our  opinions  are  against  such  things  is  bad;  yet  to  sin,  and 
plead  a toleration  so  to  do,  is  worse.  The  one  stumbles  beholders  acci- 
dentally, the  other  pleads  them  into  the  snare. 

Hon.  There  are  many  of  this  man's  mind,  that  have  not  this  man’s 
mouth;  and  that  makes  going  on  pilgrimage  of  so  little  esteem  as  it  is. 

Great.  You  have  said  the  truth,  and  it  is  to  be  lamented;  but  he  that 
feareth  the  King  of  Paradise  shall  come  out  of  them  all. 

Chr.  There  are  strange  opinions  in  the  world.  I know  one  that  said  it 
was  time  enough  to  repent  when  they  come  to  die. 

Great.  Such  are  not  over-wise.  That  man  would  have  been  loth,  might 
he  have  had  a week  to  run  twenty  miles  in  for  his  life,  to  have  deferred  that 
journey  to  the  last  hour  of  that  week. 

H on.  You  say  right;  and  yet  the  generality  of  them  who  count  them- 
selves pilgrims  do  indeed  do  thus.  I am,  as  you  see,  an  old  man,  and  have 
been  a traveller  in  this  road  many  a day,  and  I have  taken  notice  of  many 
things.  I have  seen  some  that  have  set  out  as  if  they  would  drive  all  the 
world  afore  them,  who  yet  have,  in  a few  days,  died  as  they  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  so  never  got  sight  of  the  promised  land.  I have  seen  some  that 
have  promised  nothing  at  first,  setting  out  to  be  pilgrims,  and  that  one 
would  have  thought  could  not  have  lived  a day,  that  have  yet  proved  very 
good  pilgrims.  I have  seen  some  that  have  run  hastily  forward,  that  again 
have,  after  a little  time,  run  just  as  fast  back  again.  I have  seen  some  who 
have  spoken  very  well  of  a pilgrim’s  life  at  first,  that,  after  awhile,  have 
spoken  as  much  against  it.  I have  heard  some,  when  they  first  set  out  for 
Paradise,  say  positively  there  is  such  a place,  who,  when  they  have  been 
almost  there,  have  come  back  again,  and  said  there  is  none.  I have  heard 
some  vaunt  what  they  would  do  in  case  they  should  be  opposed,  that  have, 
even  at  a false  alarm,  fled  faith,  the  pilgrim’s  way,  and  all. 

Now,  as  they  were  thus  in  their  way,  there  came  one  running  to  meet 


304 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


them,  and  said,  “Gentlemen,  and  you  of  the  weaker  sort,  if  you  love  life, 
shift  for  yourselves,  for  the  robbers  are  before  you.” 

Great.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “They  be  the  three  that  set  upon 
Little-Faith  heretofore.  “Well,”  said  he,  “we  are  ready  for  them.” 

So  they  went  on  their  way.  Now  they  looked  at  every  turning  when 
they  should  have  met  with  the  villains;  but  whether  they  heard  of  Mr. 
Great-heart,  or  whether  they  had  some  other  game,  they  came  not  up  to 
the  pilgrims. 

Christiana  then  wished  for  an  inn  for 
herself  and  her  children,  because  they 
were  weary. 

Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  “There  is  one 
a little  before  us,  where  a very  hon- 
ourable disciple,  one  Gaius,  dwells.” 
(Rom.  xvi.  23.)  So  they  all  concluded 
to  turn  in  thither,  and  the  rather  be- 
cause the  old  gentleman  gave  him  so 
good  a report.  When  they  came  to  the 
door,  they  went  in,  not  knocking,  for 
folks  use  not  to  knock  at  the  door  of  an 
inn.  Then  they  called  for  the  master  of 
the  house,  and  he  came  to  them;  so 
they  asked  if  they  might  lie  there  that 
night. 

Gaius.  Yes,  gentlemen,  if  you  be 
true  men,  for  my  house  is  for  none  but 
pilgrims. 

Then  were  Christiana,  Mercy,  and  the 
boys  the  more  glad,  for  that  the  Inn- 
keeper was  a lover  of  pilgrims.  So  they  called  for  rooms,  and  he  showed 
them  one  for  Christiana,  and  her  children,  and  Mercy,  and  another  for  Mr. 
Great-heart  and  the  old  gentleman. 

Great.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “Good  Gaius,  what  hast  thou  for 
supper?  for  these  pilgrims  have  come  far  to-day,  and  are  weary.” 

Gaius.  “ It  is  late,”  said  Gaius,  “so  we  cannot  conveniently  go  out  to  seek 
food;  but  such  as  we  have  you  shall  be  welcome  to,  if  that  will  content.” 
Great.  We  will  be  content  with  what  thou  hast  in  the  house;  foras- 


GAIUS. 


THE  FAMILY  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS. 


305 


much  as  I have  proved  thee,  thou  art  never  destitute  of  that  which  is 
convenient. 

Then  he  went  down  and  spake  to  the  cook,  whose  name  was  Taste-that- 
which-is-good,  to  get  ready  supper  for  so  many  pilgrims.  This  done,  he 
came  up  again,  saying,  “ Come,  my  good  friends,  you  are  welcome  to  me, 
and  I am  glad  that  I have  a house  to  entertain  you  in;  and,  while  supper  is 
making  ready,  if  you  please,  let  us  entertain  one  another  with  some  good 
discourse.” 

So  they  all  said,  “Content.” 

Gaius.  Then  said  Gaius,  “Whose 
wife  is  this  aged  matron?  and  whose 
daughter  is  this  young  damsel?” 

Great.  The  woman  is  the  wife  of 
one  Christian,  a pilgrim  of  former  times; 
and  these  are  his  four  children.  The 
maid  is  one  of  her  acquaintance,  one 
that  she  hath  persuaded  to  come  with 
her  on  pilgrimage.  The  boys  take  all 
after  their  father,  and  covet  to  tread  in 
his  steps;  yea,  if  they  do  but  see  any 
place  where  the  old  pilgrim  hath  lain,  or 
any  print  of  his  foot,  it  ministereth  joy 
to  their  hearts,  and  they  covet  to  lie  or 
tread  in  the  same. 

Gaius.  Then  said  Gaius,  “Is  this 
Christian’s  wife,  and  are  these  Chris- 
tian’s children  ? I knew  your  husband’s 
father;  yea,  also  his  father's  father. 

Many  have  been  good  of  this  stock;  their  ancestors  dwelt  first  at  Antioch. 
(Acts  xi.  26.)  Christian’s  progenitors  (I  suppose  you  have  heard  your 
husband  talk  of  them)  were  very  worthy  men.  They  have,  above  any  that 
I know,  showed  themselves  men  of  great  virtue  and  courage,  for  the  Lord 
of  pilgrims,  His  ways,  and  them  that  loved  Him.  I have  heard  of  many 
of  your  husband’s  relations,  that  have  stood  all  trials  for  the  sake  of  the 
truth.  Stephen,  who  was  one  of  the  first  of  the  family  from  whence  your 
husband  sprang,  was  knocked  on  the  head  with  stones.  (Acts  vii.  59,  60.) 
James,  another  of  this  generation,  was  slain  with  the  edge  of  the  sword. 


TASTE-THAT-WHICH  18-GOOD. 


3°6 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


(Acts  xii.  2.)  To  say  nothing  of  Paul  and  Peter,  men  anciently  of  the 
family  from  whence  your  husband  came,  there  was  Ignatius,  who  was  cast 
to  the  lions;  Romanus,  whose  flesh  was  cut  by  pieces  from  his  bones;  and 
Polycarp,  that  played  the  man  in  the  fire;  there  was  he  that  was  hanged  up 
in  a basket  in  the  sun  for  the  wasps  to  eat;  and  he  whom  they  put  into  a 
sack,  and  cast  him  into  the  sea  to  be  drowned.  It  would  be  utterly  impos- 
sible to  count  up  all  of  that  family  who  have  suffered  injuries  and  death  for 
the  love  of  a pilgrim’s  life.  Nor  can  I but  be  glad  to  see  that  thy  husband 
has  left  behind  him  four  such  boys  as  these.  I hope  they  will  bear  out 
their  father’s  name,  and  tread  in  their  father’s  steps,  and  come  to  their 
father’s  end.” 

Great.  Indeed,  sir,  they  are  likely  lads;  they  seem  to  choose  heartily 
their  father’s  ways. 

Gaius.  That  is  it  that  I said;  wherefore  Christian’s  family  is  like  still  to 
spread  abroad  upon  the  face  of  the  ground,  and  yet  to  be  numerous  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth.  Wherefore  let  Christiana  look  out  some  damsels  for 
her  sons,  to  whom  they  may  be  betrothed,  etc.,  that  the  name  of  their  father 
and  the  house  of  his  progenitors  may  never  be  forgotten  in  the  world. 

H on.  ’T  is  pity  this  family  should  fall  and  be  extinct. 

Gaius.  Fall  it  cannot,  but  be  diminished  it  may;  but  let  Christiana  take 
my  advice,  and  that  is  the  way  to  uphold  it.  “And,  Christiana,”  said  this 
Innkeeper,  “I  am  glad  to  see  thee  and  thy  friend  Mercy  together  here,  a 
lovely  couple.  And  may  I advise,  take  Mercy  into  a nearer  relation  to 
thee;  if  she  will,  let  her  be  given  to  Matthew,  thy  eldest  son.  It  is  the  way 
to  preserve  you  a posterity  in  the  earth.” 

So  this  match  was  concluded,  and  in  process  of  time  they  were  married; 
but  more  of  that  hereafter. 

Gaius  also  proceeded,  and  said,  “ I will  now  speak  on  the  behalf  of 
women,  to  take  away  their  reproach.  For  as  death  and  the  curse  came 
into  the  world  by  a woman  (Gen.  iii.),  so  also  did  life  and  health:  ‘God  sent 
forth  His  Son,  made  of  a woman.’  (Gal.  iv.  4.)  Yea,  to  show  how  much 
they  that  came  after  did  abhor  the  act  of  their  mother,  this  sex  in  the  Old 
Testament  coveted  children,  if  happily  this  or  that  woman  might  be  the 
mother  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  I will  say  again,  that  when  the 
Saviour  was  come,  women  rejoiced  in  Him  before  either  man  or  angel. 
(Luke  i.  42 — 45.)  I read  not  that  man  ever  gave  unto  Christ  so  much  as 
one  groat;  but  the  women  followed  Him,  and  ministered  to  Him  of  their 


THE  SUPPER  AT  GAIUS' S HOUSE. 


307 


substance.  (Luke  viii.  2,  3.)  ’T  was  a woman  that  washed  His  feet  with 
tears  (Luke  vii.  37 — 50),  and  a woman  that  anointed  His  body  to  the 
burial  (John  xi.  2;  xii.  3.)  They  were  women  that  wept  when  He  was 
going  to  the  cross  (Luke  xxiii.  27),  and  women  that  followed  Him  from  the 
cross  (Matt,  xxvii.  55,  56;  Luke  xxii.  55);  and  that  sat  over  against  the 
sepulchre  when  He  was  buried  (Matt,  xxvii.  61).  They  were  women  that 
were  first  with  Him  at  His  resurrection-morn  (Luke  xxiv.  1),  and  women 
that  brought  tidings  first  to  His  disciples  that  He  was  risen  from  the  dead 
(Luke  xxiv.  22,  23.)  Women,  therefore,  are  highly  favoured,  and  show  by 
these  things  that  they  are  sharers  with  us  in  the  grace  of  life.” 

Now  the  cook  sent  up  to  signify  that  supper  was  almost  ready,  and 
sent  one  to  lay  the  cloth,  the  trenchers,  and  to  set  the  salt  and  bread  in 
order. 

Then  said  Matthew,  “The  sight  of  this  cloth,  and  of  this  forerunner  of 
the  supper,  begetteth  in  me  a greater  appetite  to  my  food  than  I had 
before.” 

Gaius  So  let  all  ministering  doctrines  to  thee  in  this  life  beget  in  thee  a 
greater  desire  to  sit  at  the  supper  of  the  great  King  in  His  kingdom;  for 
all  preaching,  books,  and  ordinances  here,  are  but  as  the  laying  of  the 
trenchers,  and  as  setting  of  salt  upon  the  board,  when  compared  with  the 
feast  which  our  Lord  will  make  for  us  when  we  come  to  His  house. 

So  supper  came  up.  And  first  a heave-shoulder  and  a wave-breast  were 
set  on  the  table  before  them,  to  show  that  they  must  begin  their  meal  with 
prayer  and  praise  to  God.  The  heave-shoulder  David  lifted  up  his  heart  to 
God  with;  and  with  the  wave-breast,  where  his  heart  lay,  he  used  to  lean 
upon  his  harp  when  he  played.  (Lev.  vii.  32 — 34;  x.  14,  15;  Psa.  xxv.  1 ; 
Heb.  xiii.  15.)  These  two  dishes  were  very  fresh  and  good,  and  they  all 
ate  heartily  well  thereof. 

The  next  they  brought  up  was  a bottle  of  wine,  red  as  blood.  So  Gaius 
said  to  them,  “Drink  freely:  this  is  the  true  juice  of  the  vine,  that  makes 
glad  the  heart  of  God  and  man.”  So  they  drank  and  were  merry.  (Deut. 
xxxii.  i4;Judg.  ix.  13;  John  xv.  5.)  The  next  was  a dish  of  milk,  well 
crumbed;  but  Gaius  said,  “Let  the  boys  have  that,  that  they  may  grow 
thereby.”  (I.  Pet.  ii.  1,  2.) 

Then  they  brought  up  in  course  a dish  of  butter  and  honey.  Then  said 
Gaius,  “Eat  freely  of  this,  for  this  is  good  to  cheer  up  and  strengthen  your 
judgments  and  understandings.  This  was  our  Lord’s  dish  when  he  was  a 


3°S 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


child:  ‘Butter  and  honey  shall  He  eat,  that  He  may  know  to  refuse  the  evil 
and  choose  the  good.’ ” (Isa.  vii.  15.) 

Then  they  brought  them  up  a dish  of  apples,  and  they  were  very  good 
tasted  fruit.  Then  said  Matthew,  “ May  we  eat  apples,  since  they  were  such 
by  and  with  which  the  serpent  beguiled  our  first  mother?” 

Then  said  Gaius: 

“Apples  were  they  with  which  we  were  beguiled; 

Yet  sin,  not  apples,  hath  our  souls  defiled. 

Apples  forbid,  if  ate,  corrupt  the  blood  ; 

To  eat  such,  when  commanded,  does  us  good. 

Drink  of  His  flagons,  then,  thou  Church,  His  dove, 

And  eat  His  apples  who  are  sick  of  love.” 


Then  said  Matthew,  “I  made  the  scruple,  because  I,  awhile  since,  was 
sick  with  eating  of  fruit.” 

Gaius.  Forbidden  fruit  will  make  you  sick ; but  not  what  our  Lord  has 
tolerated. 

While  they  were  thus  talking,  they  were  presented  with  another  dish, 
and  it  was  a dish  of  nuts.  (Song.  vi.  11.)  Then  said  some  at  the  table, 
“Nuts  spoil  tender  teeth,  specially  the  teeth  of  children;”  which,  when 
Gaius  heard,  he  said: 

“ Hard  texts  are  nuts  (I  will  not  call  them  cheaters), 

Whose  shells  do  keep  their  kernels  from  the  eaters; 

Ope  then  the  shells,  and  you  shall  have  the  meat: 

They  here  are  brought  for  you  to  crack  and  eat.” 


Then  were  they  very  merry,  and  sat  at  the  table  a long  time,  talking  of 
many  things.  Then  said  the  old  gentleman,  “My  good  landlord,  while  we 
are  cracking  your  nuts,  if  you  please,  do  you  open  this  riddle: 


“A  man  there  was,  though  some  did  count  him  mad, 
The  more  he  cast  away,  the  more  he  had.” 


Then  they  all  gave  good  heed,  wondering  what  good  Gaius  would  say; 
so  he  sat  still  awhile,  and  then  thus  replied: 


“He  that  bestows  his  goods  upon  the  poor 
Shall  have  as  much  again,  and  ten  times  more.” 


"Mercy,  as  her  custom  was,  would  be  making  coats  and  garments  to  give  to  the  poor.'1 


MERCY  AND  MATTHEW. 


3i  i 


Then  said  Joseph,  “I  dare  say,  sir,  I did  not  think  you  could  have  found 
it  out." 

“Oh!"  said  Gaius,  “I  have  been  trained  up  in  this  way  a great  while: 
nothing  teaches  like  experience.  I have  learned  of  my  Lord  to  be  kind, 
and  have  found  by  experience  that  I have  gained  thereby.  ‘There  is  that 
scattereth,  and  yet  increaseth;  and  there  is  that  withholdeth  more  than  is 
meet,  but  it  tendeth  to  poverty.’  ‘There  is  that  maketh  himself  rich,  yet 
hath  nothing;  there  is  that  maketh  himself  poor,  yet  hath  great  riches.’” 
(Prov.  xi.  24;  xiii.  7.) 

Then  Samuel  whispered  to  Chris- 
tiana, his  mother,  and  said,  “ Mother, 
this  is  a very  good  man’s  house;  let  us 
stay  here  a good  while,  and  let  my 
brother  Matthew  be  married  here  to 
Mercy  before  we  go  any  farther.”  The 
which  Gaius,  the  host,  overhearing,  said, 

“With  a very  good  will,  my  child.” 

So  they  stayed  there  more  than  a 
month,  and  Mercy  was  given  to  Matthew 
to  wife.  While  they  stayed  here,  Mercy, 
as  her  custom  was,  would  be  making 
coats  and  garments  to  give  to  the  poor, 
by  which  she  brought  up  a very  good 
report  upon  the  pilgrims. 

But  to  turn  again  to  our  story.  After 
supper,  the  lads  desired  a bed,  for  that 
they  were  weary  with  travelling.  Then 
Gaius  called  to  show  them  their  cham- 
ber; but  said  Mercy,  “I  will  have  them 
to  bed.”  So  she  had  them  to  bed,  and  they  slept  well;  but  the  rest  sat  up 
all  night,  for  Gaius  and  they  were  such  suitable  company,  that  they  could 
not  tell  how  to  part. 

Then,  after  much  talk  of  their  Lord,  themselves,  and  their  journey,  old 
Mr.  Honest,  he  that  put  forth  the  riddle  to  Gaius,  began  to  nod. 

Then  said  Great-heart,  “What,  sir!  you  begin  to  be  drowsy?  Come,  rub 
up.  Now,  here ’s  a riddle  for  you.” 

Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  “Let  us  hear  it.” 


312 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart: 

“ He  that  will  kill,  must  first  be  overcome ; 

Who  live  abroad  would,  first  must  die  at  home.” 


“Ha!”  said  Mr.  Honest,  “it  is  a hard  one;  hard  to  expound,  and  harder 
to  practise.  But  come,  landlord,”  said  he,  “I  will,  if  you  please,  leave  my 
part  to  you:  do  you  expound  it,  and  I will  hear  what  you  say.” 

“No,”  said  Gaius,  “it  was  put  to  you,  and  it  is  expected  you  should 
answer  it.” 

Then  said  the  old  gentleman : 

“ He  first  by  grace  must  conquered  be, 

That  sin  would  mortify  ; 

And  who  that  lives  would  convince  me, 

Unto  himself  must  die.” 


“It  is  right,”  said  Gaius;  “good  doctrine  and  experience  teach  this.  For, 
first,  until  grace  displays  itself,  and  overcomes  the  soul  with  its  glory,  it  is 
altogether  without  heart  to  oppose  sin.  Besides,  if  sin  is  Satan’s  cord,  by 
which  the  soul  lies  bound,  how  should  it  make  resistance  before  it  is  loosed 
from  that  infirmity?  Secondly,  nor  will  any  one  that  knows  either  reason 
or  grace  believe  that  such  a man  can  be  a living  monument  of  grace  that  is 
a slave  to  his  own  corruptions.  And,  now  it  comes  into  my  mind,  I will 
tell  you  a story  worth  the  hearing.  There  were  two  men  that  went  on 
pilgrimage;  the  one  began  when  he  was  young,  the  other  when  he  was  old. 
The  young  man  had  strong  corruptions  to  grapple  with;  the  old  man’s  were 
decayed  with  the  decays  of  nature.  The  young  man  trod  his  steps  as  even 
as  did  the  old  one,  and  was  every  way  as  light  as  he.  Who  now,  or  which 
of  them,  had  their  graces  shining  clearest,  since  both  seemed  to  be  alike? 

Hon.  The  young  man’s,  doubtless;  for  that  which  heads  it  against  the 
greatest  opposition,  gives  best  demonstration  that  it  is  strongest;  specially 
when  it  also  holdeth  pace  with  that  which  meets  not  with  half  so  much,  as, 
to  be  sure,  old  age  does  not.  Besides,  I have  observed  that  old  men  have 
blessed  themselves  with  this  mistake;  namely,  taking  the  decays  of  nature 
for  a gracious  conquest  over  corruptions,  and  so  have  been  apt  to  beguile 
themselves.  Indeed,  old  men  that  are  gracious  are  best  able  to  give  advice 
to  them  that  are  young,  because  they  have  seen  most  of  the  emptiness  of 


SLAY.  GOOD  DESTROYED  AND  FEEBLE- MIND  RESCUED. 


3i3 


things;  but  yet,  for  an  old  and  a young  [man]  to  set  out  both  together,  the 
young  one  has  the  advantage  of  the  fairest  discovery  of  a work  of  grace 
within  him,  though  the  old  man’s  corruptions  are  naturally  the  weakest. 

Thus  they  sat  talking  till  break  of  day.  Now,  when  the  family  were  up, 
Christiana  bade  her  son  James  read  a chapter;  so  he  read  the  fifty-third  of 
Isaiah.  When  he  had  done,  Mr.  Honest  asked  why  it  was  said  that  the 
Saviour  was  to  come  out  of  a dry  ground;  and  also  that  lie  had  no  form 
nor  comeliness  in  Him. 

Great.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “ To  the  first  I answer,  because  the 
Church  of  the  Jews,  of  which  Christ  came,  had  then  lost  almost  all  the  sap 
and  spirit  of  religion.  To  the  second  I say,  The  words  are  spoken  in  the 
person  of  the  unbelievers,  who,  because  they  want  that  eye  that  can  see 
into  our  prince’s  heart,  therefore  they  judge  of  Him  by  the  meanness  of  His 
outside;  just  like  those  that  know  not  that  precious  stones  are  covered 
over  with  a homely  crust,  who,  when  they  have  found  one,  because  they 
know  not  what  they  have  found,  cast  it  again  away,  as  men  do  a common 
stone.” 

“Well,”  said  Gaius,  “now  you  are  here,  and  since,  as  I know  Mr.  Great- 
heart  is  good  at  his  weapons,  if  you  please,  after  we  have  refreshed  our- 
selves, we  will  walk  into  the  fields,  to  see  if  we  can  do  any  good.  About  a 
mile  from  hence  there  is  one  Slay-good,  a giant,  that  doth  much  annoy  the 
King’s  highway  in  these  parts;  and  I know  whereabout  his  haunt  is.  He 
is  master  of  a number  of  thieves:  ’t would  be  well  if  we  could  clear  these 
parts  of  him.” 

So  they  consented  and  went;  Mr.  Great-heart  with  his  sword,  helmet, 
and  shield,  and  the  rest  with  spears  and  staves. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  he  was,  they  found  him  with 
one  Feeble-mind  in  his  hands,  whom  his  servants  had  brought  unto  him, 
having  taken  him  in  the  way.  Now  the  giant  was  rifling  of  him,  with  a 
purpose  after  that  to  pick  his  bones;  for  he  was  of  the  nature  of  flesh-eaters. 

Well,  so  soon  as  he  saw  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  friends  at  the  mouth  of 
his  cave  with  their  weapons,  he  demanded  what  they  wanted. 

Great.  We  want  thee,  for  we  are  come  to  revenge  the  quarrel  of  the 
many  that  thou  hast  slain  of  the  pilgrims,  when  thou  has  dragged  them  out 
of  the  King’s  highway;  wherefore  come  out  of  thy  cave. 

So  he  armed  himself  and  came  out;  and  to  battle  they  went,  and  fought 
for  above  an  hour,  and  then  stood  still  to  take  wind. 


314 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Slay.  Then  said  the  giant,  “Why  are  you  here  on  my  ground?” 

Great.  To  revenge  the  blood  of  pilgrims,  as  I told  thee  before. 

So  they  went  to  it  again,  and  the  giant  made  Mr.  Great-heart  give  back; 
but  he  came  up  again,  and  in  the  greatness  of  his  mind  he  let  fly  with  such 
stoutness  at  the  giant’s  head  and  sides,  that  he  made  him  let  his  weapon 
fall  out  of  his  hand.  So  he  smote  him,  and  slew  him,  and  cut  off  his  head, 
and  brought  it  away  to  the  inn.  He  also  took  Feeble-mind,  the  pilgrim, 
and  brought  him  with  him  to  his  lodgings.  When  they  were  come  home, 
they  showed  his  head  to  the  family,  and  then  set  it  up  as  they  had  done 
others  before,  for  a terror  to  those  that  should  attempt  to  do  as  he  here- 
after. 

Then  they  asked  Mr.  Feeble-mind  how  he  fell  into  his  hands. 

Feeble.  Then  said  the  poor  man,  “I  am  a sickly  man,  as  you  see;  and 
because  death  did  usually  once  a day  knock  at  my  door,  I thought  I should 
never  be  well  at  home:  so  I betook  myself  to  a pilgrim’s  life,  and  have 
travelled  hither  from  the  town  of  Uncertain,  where  I and  my  father  were 
born.  I am  a man  of  no  strength  at  all  of  body,  nor  yet  of  mind,  but 
would,  if  I could,  though  I can  but  crawl,  spend  my  life  in  the  pilgrims’ 
way.  When  I came  at  the  gate  that  is  at  the  head  of  the  way,  the  Lord  of 
that  place  did  entertain  me  freely;  neither  objected  lie  against  my  weakly 
looks,  nor  against  my  feeble  mind,  but  gave  me  such  things  as  were 
necessary  for  my  journey,  and  bid  me  hope  to  the  end.  When  I came  to 
the  house  of  the  Interpreter,  I received  much  kindness  there;  and  because 
the  Hill  Difficulty  was  judged  too  hard  for  me,  I was  carried  up  that  by  one 
of  his  servants.  Indeed,  I have  found  much  relief  from  pilgrims:  though 
none  were  willing  to  go  so  softly  as  I am  forced  to  do,  yet  still  as  they 
came  on  they  bid  me  be  of  good  cheer,  and  said  that  it  was  the  will  of  their 
Lord  that  comfort  should  be  given  to  the  feeble-minded  (I.  Thess.  v.  14), 
and  so  went  on  their  own  pace.  When  I was  come  to  Assault  Lane,  then 
this  giant  met  with  me,  and  bid  me  prepare  for  an  encounter.  But,  alas! 
feeble  one  that  I was,  I had  more  need  of  a cordial;  so  he  came  up  and 
took  me,  I conceited  he  should  not  kill  me.  Also  when  he  got  me  into 
his  den,  since  I went  not  with  him  willingly,  I believed  I should  come  out 
alive  again;  for  I have  heard  that  not  any  pilgrim  that  is  taken 
Mark  this!  captive  by  violent  hands,  if  he  keeps  heart-whole  towards  his 
Master,  is,  by  the  laws  of  Providence,  to  die  by  the  hands  of 
the  enemy.  Robbed  I looked  to  be,  and  robbed  to  be  sure  I am;  but  I 


A HEARTY  WELCOME  FROM  GAIUS. 


3i5 


have,  as  you  see,  escaped  with  life,  for  the  which  I thank  my  King  as 

author,  and  you  as  the  means.  Other  brunts  I also  look  for; 

but  this  I have  resolved  on — to  wit,  to  run  when  I can,  to  go  Mark  this! 

when  I cannot  run,  and  to  creep  when  I cannot  go.  As  to  the 

main,  I thank  Him  that  loves  me,  I am  fixed:  my  way  is  before  me,  my 

mind  is  beyond  the  river  that  has  no  bridge,  though  I am,  as  you  see,  but 

of  a feeble  mind.” 

Hon.  Then  said  old  Mr.  Honest,  “Have  not  you  some  time  ago  been 
acquainted  with  one  Mr.  Fearing,  a pilgrim?” 

Feeble.  Acquainted  with  him!  yes;  he  came  from  the  town  of  Stupidity, 
which  lies  four  degrees  northward  of  the  City  of  Destruction,  and  as  many 
off  of ‘where  I was  born;  yet  we  were  well  acquainted,  for  indeed  he  was 
my  uncle,  my  father’s  brother.  He  and  I have  been  much  of  a temper:  he 
was  a little  shorter  than  I,  but  yet  we  were  much  of  a complexion. 

Hon:  I perceive  you  know  him,  and  I am  apt  to  believe  also  that  you 
are  related  one  to  another;  for  you  have  his  whitely  look,  a cast  like  his 
with  your  eye,  and  your  speech  is  much  alike. 

Feeble.  Most  have  said  so  that  have  known  us  both;  and  besides,  what 
I have  read  in  him  I have  for  the  most  part  found  in  myself. 

Gaius.  “Come,  sir,”  said  good  Gaius,  “be  of  good  cheer:  you  are  wel- 
come to  me  and  to  my  house.  What  thou  hast  a mind  to,  call  for  freely; 
and  what  thou  wouldst  have  my  servants  do  for  thee,  they  will  do  it  with  a 
ready  mind.” 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  “This  is  an  unexpected  favour,  Notice  to  be 
and  as  the  sun  shining  out  of  a very  dark  cloud.  Did  Giant  providence. 
Slay-good  intend  me  this  favour  when  he  stopped  me,  and 
resolved  to  let  me  go  no  farther?  Did  he  intend  that,  after  he  had  rifled 
my  pockets,  I should  go  to  Gaius,  mine  host?  Yet  so  it  is.” 

Now,  just  as  Feeble-mind  and  Gaius  were  thus  in  talk,  there  came  one 
running,  and  called  at  the  door,  and  said,  that  “About  a mile  and  a half  off 
there  was  one  Mr.  Not-right,  a pilgrim,  struck  dead  upon  the  place  where 
he  was,  with  a thunderbolt.” 

Feeble.  “Alas!”  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  “is  he  slain?  He  overtook  me 
some  days  before  I came  so  far  as  hither,  and  would  be  my  company- 
keeper.  He  also  was  with  me  when  Slay-good,  the  giant,  took  me;  but  he 
was  nimble  of  his  heels,  and  escaped;  but  it  seems  he  escaped  to  die,  and  I 
was  taken  to  live. 


3l6 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


“ What,  one  would  think,  doth  seek  to  slay  outright, 
Ofttimes  delivers  from  the  saddest  plight. 

That  very  Providence,  whose  face  is  death, 

Doth  ofttimes  to  the  lowly  life  bequeath. 

I was  taken,  he  did  escape  and  flee ; 

Hands  crossed  gives  death  to  him,  and  life  to  me.” 


Now,  about  this  time,  Matthew  and  Mercy  were  married;  also  Gaius  gave 
his  daughter  Phoebe  to  James,  Matthew's  brother,  to  wife;  after  which  time, 
they  yet  stayed  about  ten  days  at  Gaius’s  house,  spending  their  time  and 
the  seasons  like  as  pilgrims  use  to  do. 

When  they  were  to  depart,  Gaius  made  them  a feast,  and  they  did  eat 
and  drink  and  were  merry.  Now,  the  hour  was  come  that  they  must  be 
gone,  wherefore  Mr.  Great-heart  called  for  a reckoning.  But  Gaius  told 
him  that  at  his  house  it  was  not  the  custom  of  pilgrims  to  pay  for  their 
entertainment.  He  boarded  them  by  the  year,  but  looked  for  his  pay  from 
the  Good  Samaritan,  who  had  promised  him,  at  His  return,  whatsoever 
charge  he  was  at  with  them,  faithfully  to  repay  him.  (Luke  x.  34,  35.) 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  him, 

Great.  Beloved,  thou  doest  faithfully,  whatsoever  thou  doest  to  the 
brethren  and  to  strangers,  which  have  borne  witness  of  thy  charity  before 
the  Church;  whom  if  thou  yet  bring  forward  on  their  journey  after  a godly 
sort,  thou  shalt  do  well.  (III.  John,  5,  6.) 

Then  Gaius  took  his  leave  of  them  all,  and  his  children,  and  particularly 
of  Mr.  Feeble-mind.  He  also  gave  him  something  to  drink  by  the  way. 

Now,  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  when  they  were  going  out  of  the  door,  made  as 
if  he  intended  to  linger.  The  which  when  Mr.  Great-heart  espied,  he  said, 
“Come,  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  pray  do  you  go  along  with  us:  I will  be  your 
conductor,  and  you  shall  fare  as  the  rest.” 

Feeble.  Alas!  I want  a suitable  companion.  You  are  all  lusty  and 
strong,  but  I,  as  you  see,  am  weak;  I choose,  therefore,  rather  to  come 
behind,  lest,  by  reason  of  my  many  infirmities,  I should  be  both  a burden 
to  myself  and  to  you.  I am,  as  I said,  a man  of  a weak  and  feeble  mind, 
and  shall  be  offended  and  made  weak  at  that  which  others  can  bear.  I 
shall  like  no  laughing;  I shall  like  no  gay  attire;  I shall  like  no  unprofitable 
questions.  Nay,  I am  so  weak  a man  as  to  be  offended  with  that  which 
others  have  a liberty  to  do.  I do  not  yet  know  all  the  truth;  I am  a very 
ignorant  Christian  man.  Sometimes,  if  I hear  any  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  it 


Rather  than  we  will  part,  since  we  are  thus  happily  met,  I will  lend  thee  one  of  my  crutches.” 


' 


■ 


FEEBLE. MIND  FINDS  A SUITABLE  COMPANION. 


3i9 


troubles  me,  because  I cannot  do  so  too.  It  is  with  me  as  it  is  with  a weak 
man  among  the  strong,  or  as  with  a sick  man  among  the  healthy,  or  as  a 
lamp  despised.  “He  that  is  ready  to  slip  with  his  feet  is  as  a lamp 
despised  in  the  thought  of  him  that  is  at  ease"  (Job  xii.  5);  so  that  I know 
not  what  to  do. 

Great.  “But,  brother,”  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “I  have  it  in  commission  to 
comfort  the  feeble-minded  and  to  support  the  weak.  You  must  needs  go 
along  with  us:  we  will  wait  for  you;  we  will  lend  you  our  help;  we  will 
deny  ourselves  of  some  things,  both  opinionative  and  practical,  for  your 
sake;  we  will  not  enter  into  doubtful  disputations  before  you;  we  will  be 
made  all  things  to  you,  rather  than  you  shall  be  left  behind.”  (I.  Thess.  v. 
14;  Rom.  xiv.  1 ; I.  Gor.  viii.  9 — 13;  ix.  22.) 

Now,  all  this  while  they  were  at  Gaius’s  door,  and,  behold,  Promises, 
as  they  were  thus  in  the  heat  of  their  discourse,  Mr.  Ready-to- 
halt  came  by,  with  his  crutches  in  his  hands;  and  he  also  was  going  on 
pilgrimage. 

Feeble.  Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind  to  him,  “ Mow  earnest  thou  hither? 
I was  but  now  complaining  that  I had  not  a suitable  companion,  but  thou 
art  according  to  my  wish.  Welcome,  welcome,  good  Mr.  Ready-to-halt ; I 
hope  thou  and  I may  be  some  help.” 

Ready.  “I  shall  be  glad  of  thy  company,”  said  the  other;  “and,  good 
Mr.  Feeble-mind,  rather  than  we  will  part,  since  we  are  thus  happily  met,  I 
will  lend  thee  one  of  my  crutches.” 

Feeble.  “Nay,”  said  he,  “though  I thank  thee  for  thy  good-will,  I am 
not  inclined  to  halt  before  I am  lame.  Howbeit,  I think,  when  occasion  is, 
it  may  help  me  against  a dog.” 

Ready.  If  either  myself  or  my  crutches  can  do  thee  a pleasure,  we  are 
both  at  thy  command,  good  Mr.  Feeble-mind. 

Thus,  therefore,  they  went  on.  Mr.  Great-heart  and  Mr.  Honest  went 
before,  Christiana  and  her  children  went  next,  and  Mr.  Feeble-mind  came 
behind,  and  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  with  his  crutches.  Then  said  Mr.  Honest, 

hi  on.  Pray,  sir,  now  that  we  are  upon  the  road,  tell  us  some  profitable 
things  of  some  that  have  gone  on  pilgrimage  before  us. 

Great.  With  a good  will.  I suppose  you  have  heard  how  Christian  of 
old  did  meet  with  Apollyon  in  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  and  also  what 
hard  work  he  had  to  go  through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  Also 
I think  you  cannot  but  have  heard  how  Faithful  was  put  to  it  by  Madam 


320 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Wanton,  with  Adam  the  First,  with  one  Discontent,  and  Shame;  four  as 
deceitful  villains  as  a man  can  meet  with  upon  the  road. 

Hon.  Yes,  I believe  I have  heard  of  all  this;  but,  indeed,  good  Faithful 
was  hardest  put  to  it  with  Shame:  he  was  an  unwearied  one. 

Great.  Ay;  for,  as  the  pilgrim  well  said,  he  of  all  men  had  the  wrong 
name. 

H on.  But  pray,  sir,  where  was  it  that  Christian  and  Faithful  met  Talka- 
tive ? That  same  was  also  a notable  one. 

Great.  He  was  a confident  fool;  yet  many  follow  his  ways. 

H on.  He  had  liked  to  have  beguiled  Faithful. 

Great.  Ay,  but  Christian  put  him  into  a way  quickly  to  find  him  out. 

Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  place  where  Evangelist  met  with 
Christian  and  Faithful,  and  prophesied  to  them  what  should  befall  them  at 
Vanity  Fair.  Then  said  their  guide.  “Hereabouts  did  Christian  and 
Faithful  meet  with  Evangelist,  who  prophesied  to  them  of  their  troubles 
which  they  should  meet  with  at  Vanity  Fair.” 

FIon.  Say  you  so?  I dare  say  it  was  a hard  chapter,  then,  that  he  did 
read  unto  them! 

Great.  It  was  ; but  he  gave  them  encouragement  withal.  But  what  do 
we  talk  of  them?  they  were  a couple  of  lion-like  men:  they  had  set  their 
faces  like  flint.  Do  not  you  remember  how  undaunted  they  were  when 
they  stood  before  the  judge? 

Hon.  Well.  Faithful  bravely  suffered. 

Great.  So  he  did,  and  as  brave  things  came  on ’t;  for  Hopeful  and 
some  others,  as  the  story  relates  it,  were  converted  by  his  death. 

Hon.  Well,  but  pray  go  on,  for  you  are  well  acquainted  with  things. 

Great.  Above  all  that  Christian  met  with  after  he  had  passed  through 
Vanity  Fair,  one  By-ends  was  the  arch  one. 

Hon.  By-ends!  what  was  he? 

Great.  A very  arch  fellow — a downright  hypocrite;  one  that  would  be 
religious,  which  way  soever  the  world  went;  but  so  cunning  that  he  would 
be  sure  never  to  lose  or  suffer  for  it.  He  had  his  mode  of  religion  for 
every  fresh  occasion,  and  his  wife  was  as  good  at  it  as  he.  And  he  would 
turn  and  change  from  opinion  to  opinion;  yea,  and  plead  for  so  doing  too. 
But,  as  far  as  I could  learn,  he  came  to  an  ill  end  with  his  by-ends;  nor  did 
I ever  hear  that  any  of  his  children  were  ever  of  any  esteem  with  any  that 
truly  feared  God. 


THEY  ARE  ENTERTAINED  BY  M NASON. 


321 


Now,  by  this  time  they  were  come  within  sight  of  the  town  of  Vanity, 
where  Vanity  Fair  is  kept.  So,  when  they  saw  that  they  were  so  near  the 
town,  they  consulted  with  one  another  how  they  should  pass  through  the 
town;  and  some  said  one  thing,  and  some  another.  At  last  Mr.  Great- 
heart  said,  “I  have,  as  you  may  understand,  often  been  a conductor  of 
pilgrims  through  this  town.  Now,  I am  acquainted  with  one  Mr. 
Mnason  (Acts  xxi.  16),  a Cyprusian  by  nature,  an  old  disciple,  at  whose 
house  we  may  lodge.  If  you  think  good,”  said  he,  “we  will  turn  in 
there.” 

“Content,”  said  old  Honest;  “Content,”  said  Christiana;  “Content,”  said 
Mr.  Feeble-mind;  and  so  they  said  all.  Now,  you  must  think  it  was 
eventide  by  that  they  got  to  the  outside  of  the  town;  but  Mr.  Great-heart 
knew  the  way  to  the  old  man’s  house.  So  thither  they  came,  and  he  called 
at  the  door;  and  the  old  man  within  knew  his  tongue  so  soon  as  ever  he 
heard  it;  so  he  opened  the  door,  and  they  all  came  in.  Then  said  Mnason, 
their  host,  “How  far  have  ye  come  to-day?” 

So  they  said,  “From  the  house  of  Gaius,  our  friend.” 

“I  promise  you,”  said  he,  “you  have  come  a good  stitch:  you  may  well 
be  weary.  Sit  down.”  So  they  sat  down. 

Great.  Then  said  their  guide,  “Come,  what  cheer,  sirs?  I dare  say  you 
are  welcome  to  my  friend.” 

Mnas.  “I  also,”  said  Mr.  Mnason,  “do  bid  you  welcome;  and  whatever 
you  want,  do  but  say,  and  we  will  do  what  we  can  to  get  it  for  you.” 

Hon.  Our  great  want  awhile  since  was  harbour  and  good  company,  and 
now  I hope  we  have  both. 

Mnas.  For  harbour,  you  see  what  it  is;  but  for  good  company,  that  will 
appear  in  the  trial. 

Great.  “Well,”  said  Great-heart,  “will  you  have  the  pilgrims  up  into 
their  lodging?” 

M nas.  “ I will,"  said  Mr.  Mnason.  So  he  had  them  up  to  their  respective 
places,  and  also  showed  them  a very  fair  dining-room,  where  they  might  be, 
and  sup  together,  until  time  should  come  to  go  to  rest. 

Now,  when  they  were  set  in  their  places,  and  were  a little  cheery  after 
their  journey,  Mr.  Honest  asked  his  landlord  if  there  were  any  store  of 
good  people  in  the  town. 

Mnas.  We  have  a few;  for,  indeed,  they  are  but  a few  when  compared 
with  them  on  the  other  side. 


322 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Hon.  But  how  shall  we  do  to  see  some  of  them?  for  the  sight  of  good 
men  to  them  that  are  going  on  pilgrimage  is  like  the  appearing  of  the  moon 
and  stars  to  them  that  are  sailing  upon  the  seas. 

Mnas.  Then  Mr.  Mnason  stamped  with  his  foot,  and  his  daughter  Grace 
came  up.  So  he  said  unto  her,  “Grace,  go  you,  tell  my  friends  Mr. 
Contrite,  Mr.  Holy-man;  Mr.  Love-saint,  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  and  Mr. 
Penitent,  that  I have  a friend  or  two  at  my  house  who  have  a mind  this 
evening  to  see  them.”  So  Grace  went  to  call  them,  and  they  came;  and, 
after  salutation  made,  they  sat  down  together  at  the  table. 

Then  said  Mr.  Mnason,  their  landlord,  “My  neighbours,  I have,  as  you 
see,  a company  of  strangers  come  to  my  house:  they  are  pilgrims ; they 
come  from  afar,  and  are  going  to  Mount  Zion.  But  who,”  quoth  he,  “do 
you  think  this  is  ?”  pointing  with  his  finger  to  Christiana.  “It  is  Christiana, 
the  wife  of  Christian,  that  famous  pilgrim  who,  with  Faithful  his  brother, 
was  so  shamefully  handled  in  our  town.” 

At  that  they  stood  amazed,  saying,  “We  little  thought  to  see  Christiana 
when  Grace  came  to  call  us;  wherefore  this  is  a very  comfortable  surprise.” 
They  then  asked  her  of  her  welfare,  and  if  these  young  men  were  her 
husband’s  sons.  And  when  she  told  them  they  were,  they  said,  “The  King 
whom  you  love  and  serve,  make  you  as  your  father,  and  bring  you  where 
he  is  in  peace!” 

H on.  Then  Mr.  Honest  (when  they  had  all  sat  down)  asked  Mr.  Con- 
trite and  the  rest  in  what  posture  their  town  was  at  present. 

Contrite.  You  may  be  sure  we  are  full  of  hurry  in  fair-time.  ’T  is 
hard  keeping  our  hearts  and  spirits  in  good  order  when  we  are 
watchfulness  *n  a cumbered  condition.  He  that  lives  in  such  a place  as  this, 
and  has  to  do  with  such  as  we  have,  has  need  of  an  item,  to 
caution  him  to  take  heed,  every  moment  of  the  day. 

H on.  But  how  are  your  neighbours  for  quietness  ? 

Contr.  They  are  much  more  moderate  now  than  formerly.  You  know 
how  Christian  and  Faithful  were  used  at  our  town ; but  of  late,  I say,  they 
have  been  far  more  moderate.  I think  the  blood  of  Faithful  lieth  as  a load 
upon  them  till  now;  for  since  they  burned  him  they  have  been  ashamed  to 
burn  any  more.  In  those  days  we  were  afraid  to  walk  the  street;  but  now 
we  can  show  our  heads.  Then  the  name  of  a professor  was  odious ; now, 
specially  in  some  parts  of  our  town  (for  you  know  our  town  is  large), 
religion  is  counted  honourable. 


A GREAT  CHANGE  AT  VANITY  FAIR. 


323 


Then  said  Mr.  Contrite  to  them,  “ Pray,  how  fareth  it  with  you  in  your 
pilgrimage?  how  stands  the  country  affected  towards  you?” 

Hon.  It  happens  to  us  as  it  happeneth  to  wayfaring  men:  sometimes  our 
way  is  clean,  sometimes  foul;  sometimes  up-hill,  sometimes  down-hill:  we 
are  seldom  at  a certainty.  The  wind  is  not  always  on  our  back,  nor  is 
every  one  a friend  that  we  meet  with  in  the  way.  We  have  met  with  some 
notable  rubs  already,  and  what  are  yet  behind  we  know  not;  but,  for  the 
most  part,  we  find  it  true  that  has  been  talked  of  of  old,  “A  good  man 
must  suffer  trouble.” 

Contr.  You  talk  of  rubs;  what  rubs  have  you  met  withal? 

Hon.  Nay,  ask  Mr.  Great-heart,  our  guide;  for  he  can  give  the  best 
account  of  that. 

Great.  We  have  been  beset  three  or  four  times  already.  First,  Chris- 
tiana and  her  children  were  beset  by  two  ruffians,  who,  they  feared,  would 
take  away  their  lives.  We  were  beset  by  Giant  Bloody-man,  Giant  Maul, 
and  Giant  Slay-good.  Indeed,  we  did  rather  beset  the  last,  than  were 
beset  of  him.  And  thus  it  was:  After  we  had  been  some  time  at  the  house 
of  Gaius  mine  host,  and  of  the  whole  Church,  we  were  minded  upon  a time 
to  take  our  weapons  with  us,  and  go  and  see  if  we  could  light  upon  any  of 
those  that  were  enemies  to  pilgrims ; for  we  heard  that  there  was  a notable 
one  thereabouts.  Now  Gaius  knew  his  haunt  better  than  I,  because  he 
dwelt  thereabout.  So  we  looked,  and  looked,  till  at  last  we  discerned  the 
mouth  of  his  cave;  then  we  were  glad  and  plucked  up  our  spirits.  So  we 
approached  up  to  his  den;  and,  lo!  when  we  came  there,  he  had  dragged, 
by  mere  force,  into  his  net,  this  poor  man,  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  and  was  about 
to  bring  him  to  his  end.  But,  when  he  saw  us,  supposing,  as  he  thought, 
he  had  had  another  prey,  he  left  the  poor  man  in  his  house,  and  came  out. 
So  we  fell  to  it  full  sore,  and  he  lustily  laid  about  him;  but,  in  conclusion, 
he  was  brought  down  to  the  ground,  and  his  head  cut  off,  and  set  up  by  the 
wayside,  for  terror  to  such  as  should  after  practise  such  ungodliness.  That 
I tell  you  the  truth,  here  is  the  man  himself  to  affirm  it,  who  was  as  a lamb 
taken  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  lion. 

Feeble.  Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  “I  found  this  true,  to  my  cost  and 
comfort:  to  my  cost,  when  he  threatened  to  pick  my  bones  every  moment; 
and  to  my  comfort,  when  I saw  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  friends  with  their 
weapons  approach  so  near  for  my  deliverance.” 

Holy.  Then  said  Mr.  Holy-man,  “There  are  two  things  that  they  have 


324 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


need  to  possess  who  go  on  pilgrimage — courage  and  an  unspotted  life.  If 
they  have  not  courage,  they  can  never  hold  on  their  way ; and  if  their  lives 
be  loose,  they  will  make  the  very  name  of  the  pilgrim  stink.” 

Love.  Then  said  Mr.  Love-saint,  “I  hope  this  caution  is  not  needful 
among  you.  But  truly  there  are  many  that  go  upon  the  road,  who  rather 
declare  themselves  strangers  to  pilgrimage  than  strangers  and  pilgrims  in 
the  earth." 

Dare.  Then  said  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  “ T is  true.  They  have  neither  the 
pilgrim’s  weed  nor  the  pilgrim’s  courage:  they  go  not  uprightly,  but  all 
awry  with  their  feet;  one  shoe  goeth  inward,  another  outward,  and  their 
hosen  out  behind;  there  is  here  a rag,  and  there  a rent,  to  the  disparage- 
ment of  their  Lord." 

Pen.  “These  things,”  said  Mr.  Penitent,  “they  ought  to  be  troubled  for; 
nor  are  the  pilgrims  like  to  have  that  grace  upon  them  and  their  pilgrims’ 
progress  as  they  desire,  until  the  way  is  cleared  of  such  spots  and 
blemishes.” 

Thus  they  sat  talking  and  spending  the  time  until  supper  was  set  upon 
the  table,  unto  which  they  went,  and  refreshed  their  weary  bodies;  so  they 
went  to  rest. 

Now,  they  stayed  in  this  fair  a great  while,  at  the  house  of  Mnason,  who, 
in  process  of  time,  gave  his  daughter  Grace  unto  Samuel,  Christiana’s  son, 
to  wife;  and  his  daughter  Martha  to  Joseph. 

The  time,  as  I said,  that  they  stayed  here  was  long;  for  it  was  not  now  as 
in  former  times.  Wherefore  the  pilgrims  grew  acquainted  with  many  of 
the  good  people  of  the  town,  and  did  them  what  service  they  could. 
Mercy,  as  she  was  wont,  laboured  much  for  the  poor;  wherefore  their  bellies 
and  backs  blessed  her,  and  she  was  there  an  ornament  to  her  profession. 
And  to  say  the  truth  for  Grace,  Phoebe,  and  Martha,  they  were  all  of  a very 
good  nature,  and  did  much  good  in  their  places.  They  were  also  all  of 
them  very  fruitful;  so  that  Christian’s  name,  as  was  said  before,  was  like  to 
live  in  the  world. 

While  they  lay  here,  there  came  a monster  out  of  the  woods,  anti  slew 
many  of  the  people  of  the  town.  It  would  also  carry  away  their  children, 
and  teach  them  to  suck  its  whelps.  Now,  no  man  in  the  town  durst  so 
much  as  face  this  monster,  but  all  fled  when  they  heard  the  noise  of  his 
coming. 

The  monster  was  like  unto  no  one  beast  on  the  earth.  Its  body  was  like 


A MONSTER  IN  THEIR  MIDST 


325 


a dragon,  and  it  had  seven  heads  and  ten  horns.  It  made  great  havoc  of 
children,  and  yet  it  was  governed  by  a woman.  (Rev.  xvii.  3.)  This 
monster  propounded  conditions  to  men,  and  such  men  as  loved  their  lives 
more  than  their  souls  accepted  of  those  conditions;  so  they  came  under. 

Now,  this  Mr.  Great-heart,  together  with  those  that  came  to  visit  the 
pilgrims  at  Mr.  Mnason’s  house,  entered  into  a covenant  to  go  and  engage 
this  beast,  if  perhaps  they  might  deliver  the  people  of  this  town  from  the 
paws  and  mouth  of  this  so  devouring  a serpent. 

Then  did  Mr.  Great-heart,  Mr.  Contrite,  Mr.  Holy-man,  Mr.  Dare-not-lie, 
and  Mr.  Penitent,  with  their  weapons,  go  forth  to  meet  him.  Now,  the 
monster  was  at  first  very  rampant,  and  looked  upon  these  enemies  with 
great  disdain;  but  they  so  belaboured  him,  being  sturdy  men-at-arms,  that 
they  made  him  make  a retreat.  So  they  came  home  to  Mr.  Mnason’s 
house  again. 

The  monster,  you  must  know,  had  his  certain  seasons  to  come  out  in, 
and  to  make  his  attempts  upon  the  children  of  the  people  of  the  town. 
Also,  these  seasons  did  these  valiant  worthies  watch  him  in,  and  did  still 
continually  assault  him;  insomuch  that  in  process  of  time  he  became  not 
onlv  wounded,  but  lame.  Also  he  has  not  made  that  havoc  of  the  towns- 
men’s  children  as  formerly  he  had  done;  and  it  is  verily  believed  by  some 
that  this  beast  will  die  of  his  wounds. 

This,  therefore,  made  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  fellows  of  great  fame  in 
this  town ; so  that  many  of  the  people  that  wanted  their  taste  of  things,  yet 
had  a reverent  esteem  and  respect  for  them.  Upon  this  account,  therefore, 
it  was  that  these  pilgrims  got  not  much  hurt  here.  True,  there  were  some 
of  the  baser  sort,  that  could  see  no  more  than  a mole,  nor  understand  any 
more  than  a beast;  these  had  no  reverence  for  these  men,  and  took  no 
notice  of  their  valour  or  adventures. 

Well,  the  time  grew  on  that  the  pilgrims  must  go  on  their  way;  where- 
fore they  prepared  for  their  journey.  They  sent  for  their  friends;  they 
conferred  with  them;  they  had  some  time  set  apart,  therein  to  commit  each 
other  to  the  protection  of  their  Prince.  There  were  again  that  brought 
them  of  such  things  as  they  had,  that  were  fit  for  the  weak  and  the  strong, 
for  the  women  and  the  men,  and  so  laded  them  with  such  things  as  were 
necessary.  (Acts  xxviii.  10.)  Then  they  set  forward  on  their  way;  and, 
their  friends  accompanying  them  so  far  as  was  convenient,  they  again  com- 
mitted each  other  to  the  protection  of  their  King,  and  parted. 


326 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


They,  therefore,  that  were  of  the  pilgrims’  company,  went  on,  and  Mr. 
Great-heart  went  before  them.  Now,  the  women  and  children  being  weakly, 
they  were  forced  to  go  as  they  could  bear;  by  which  means  Mr.  Ready-to- 
halt  and  Mr.  Feeble-mind  had  more  to  sympathize  with  their  condition. 

When  they  were  gone  from  the  townsmen,  and  when  their  friends  had 
bid  them  farewell,  they  quickly  came  to  the  place  where  Faithful  was  put  to 
death.  There,  therefore,  they  made  a stand,  and  thanked  Him  that  had 
enabled  him  to  bear  his  cross  so  well ; and  the  rather,  because  they  now 
found  that  they  had  a benefit  by  such  manly  suffering  as  his  was. 

They  went  on,  therefore,  after  this  a good  way  farther,  talking  of  Chris- 
tian and  Faithful,  and  how  Hopeful  joined  himself  to  Christian  after  that 
Faithful  was  dead. 

Now  they  were  come  up  with  the  Hill  Lucre,  where  the  silver  mine  was 
which  took  Demas  off  from  his  pilgrimage,  and  into  which,  as  some  think, 
By-ends  fell  and  perished;  wherefore  they  considered  that.  But,  when  they 
were  come  to  the  old  monument  that  stood  over  against  the  Hill  Lucre, 
to  wit,  the  pillar  of  salt,  that  stood  also  within  view  of  Sodom  and  its 
stinking  lake,  they  marvelled,  as  did  Christian  before,  that  men  of  that 
knowledge  and  ripeness  of  wit  as  they  were,  should  be  so  blind  as  to  turn 
aside  here.  Only  they  considered  again,  that  nature  is  not  affected  with 
the  harms  that  others  have  met  with,  specially  if  that  thing  upon  which  they 
look  has  an  attracting  virtue  upon  the  foolish  eye. 

I saw  now  that  they  went  on  till  they  came  at  the  river  that  was  on  this 
side  of  the  Delectable  Mountains;  to  the  river  where  the  fine  trees  grow  on 
both  sides,  and  whose  leaves,  if  taken  inwardly,  are  good  against  surfeits; 
where  the  meadows  are  green  all  the  year  long,  and  where  they  might  lie 
down  safely.  (Psa.  xxiii.  2.) 

By  this  river-side,  in  the  meadow/there  were  cotes  and  folds  for  sheep,  a 
house  built  for  the  nourishing  and  bringing  up  of  those  lambs,  the  babes  of 
those  women  that  go  on  pilgrimage.  Also  there  was  here  One  that  was 
entrusted  with  them,  who  could  have  compassion,  and  that  could  gather 
these  lambs  with  His  arm,  and  carry  them  in  His  bosom,  and  that  could 
gently  lead  those  that  were  with  young.  (Heb.  v.  2;  Isa.  xl.  11.) 

Now,  to  the  care  of  this  Man  Christiana  admonished  her  four  daughters 
to  commit  their  little  ones,  that  by  these  waters  they  might  be  housed,  har- 
boured, succoured,  and  nourished,  and  that  none  of  them  might  be  lacking 
in  time  to  come.  This  Man,  if  any  of  them  go  astray  or  be  lost,  He  will 


THEY  PLAN  THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  DOUBTING  CASTLE. 


327 


bring  them  again;  He  will  also  bind  up  that  which  was  broken,  and  will 
strengthen  them  that  are  sick.  (Jer.  xxiii.  4;  Ezek.  xxxiv.  11  — 16.)  Here 
they  will  never  want  meat  and  drink  and  clothing;  here  they  will  be  kept 
from  thieves  and  robbers;  for  this  Man  will  die  before  one  of  those  com- 
mitted to  His  trust  shall  be  lost.  Besides,  here  they  shall  be  sure  to  have 
good  nurture  and  admonition,  and  shall  be  taught  to  walk  in  right  paths: 
and  that,  you  know,  is  a favour  of  no  small  account.  Also  here,  as  you 
see,  are  delicate  waters,  pleasant  meadows,  dainty  flowers,  variety  of  trees, 
and  such  as  bear  wholesome  fruit — fruit  not  like  that  that  Matthew  ate  of, 
that  fell  over  the  wall  out  of  Beelzebub’s  garden;  but  fruit  that  procureth 
health  where  there  is  none,  and  that  continueth  and  increaseth  it  where  it  is. 
So  they  were  content  to  commit  their  little  ones  to  Him;  and  that  which 
was  also  an  encouragement  to  them  so  to  do,  was,  for  that  all  this  was  to 
be  at  the  charge  of  the  King,  and  so  was  as  an  hospital  for  young  children 
and  orphans. 

Now  they  went  on.  And,  when  they  were  come  to  By-path  Meadow,  to 
the  stile  over  which  Christian  went  with  his  fellow  Hopeful,  when  they  were 
taken  by  Giant  Despair  and  put  into  Doubting  Castle,  they  sat  down,  and 
consulted  what  was  best  to  be  done;  to  wit,  now  they  were  so  strong,  and 
had  got  such  a man  as  Mr.  Great-heart  for  their  conductor,  whether  they 
had  not  best  make  an  attempt  upon  the  giant,  demolish  his  castle,  and  if 
there  were  any  pilgrims  in  it,  to  set  them  at  liberty,  before  they  went  any 
farther.  So  one  said  one  thing,  and  another  said  the  contrary.  One 
questioned  if  it  were  lawful  to  go  upon  unconsecrated  ground;  another  said 
they  might,  providing  their  end  was  good;  but  Mr.  Great-heart  said, 
“Though  that  assertion  offered  last  cannot  be  universally  true,  yet  I have  a 
commandment  to  resist  sin,  to  overcome  evil,  to  fight  the  good  fight  of 
faith;  and,  I pray,  with  whom  should  I fight  this  good  fight,  if  not  with 
Giant  Despair?  I will  therefore  attempt  the  taking  away  of  his  life  and  the 
demolishing  of  Doubting  Castle.’’  Then  said  he,  “Who  will  go  with  me?” 
Then  said  old  Honest,  “I  will.”  “And  so  will  we  too,”  said  Christiana’s 
four  sons,  Matthew,  Samuel,  Joseph,  and  James;  for  they  were  young  men 
and  strong.  (I.  John  ii.  13,  14.)  So  they  left  the  women  in  the  road,  and 
with  them  Mr.  Feeble-mind  and  Mr.  Ready-to-halt,  with  his  crutches,  to  be 
their  guard  until  they  came  back;  for,  in  that  place,  though  Giant  Despair 
dwelt  so  near,  they  keeping  in  the  road,  “a  little  child  might  lead  them.” 
(Isa.  xi.  6.) 


328 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


So  Mr.  Great-heart,  old  Honest,  and  the  four  young  men  went  to  go  up 
to  Doubting  Castle,  to  look  for  Giant  Despair.  When  they  came  at  the 
castle  gate,  they  knocked  for  entrance  with  an  unusual  noise.  At  that,  the 
old  giant  comes  to  the  gate,  and  Diffidence  his  wife  follows.  Then  said  he, 
“Who  and  what  is  he  that  is  so  hardy  as  after  this  manner  to  molest  the 
Giant  Despair?” 

Mr.  Great-heart  replied,  “It  is  I,  Great-heart,  one  of  the  King  of  the 
Celestial  Country’s  conductors  of  pilgrims  to  their  place;  and  I demand  of 

thee  that  thou  open  thy  gates  for  my 
entrance;  prepare  thyself  also  to  fight, 
for  I am  come  to  take  away  thy  head, 
and  to  demolish  Doubting  Castle.” 
Now,  Giant  Despair,  because  he  was 
a giant,  thought  no  man  could  over- 
come him;  and  again  thought  he,  “Since 
heretofore  I have  made  a conquest  of 
angels,  shall  Great-heart  make  me 
afraid?”  So  he  harnessed  himself,  and 
went  out.  He  had  a cap  of  steel  upon 
his  head,  a breast-plate  of  fire  girded  to 
him,  and  he  came  out  in  iron  shoes, 
with  a great  club  in  his  hand.  Then 
these  six  men  made  up  to  him,  and 
beset  him  behind  and  before;  also,  when 
Diffidence,  the  giantess,  came  up  to  help 
him,  old  Mr.  Honest  cut  her  down  at 
one  blow.  Then  they  fought  for  their 
lives,  and  Giant  Despair  was  brought 
down  to  the  ground,  but  was  very  loth 
to  die.  He  struggled  hard,  and  had,  as  they  say,  as  many  lives  as  a cat; 
but  Great-heart  was  his  death,  for  he  left  him  not  till  he  had  severed  his 
head  from  his  shoulders. 

Then  they  fell  to  demolishing  Doubting  Castle,  and  that,  you  know, 
might  with  ease  be  done,  since  Giant  Despair  was  dead.  They  were  seven 
days  in  destroying  of  that;  and  in  it  of  pilgrims  they  found  one  Mr. 
Despondency,  almost  starved  to  death,  and  one  Much-afraid,  his  daughter: 
these  two  they  saved  alive.  But  it  would  have  made  you  wonder  to  have 


DESPONDENCY. 


THE  PRISONERS  REJOICE. 


329 


seen  the  dead  bodies  that  lay  here  and  there  in  the  castle-yard,  and  how 
lull  of  dead  men’s  bones  the  dungeon  was. 

When  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  companions  had  performed  this  exploit, 
they  took  Mr.  Despondency  and  his  daughter  Much-afraid  into  their  pro- 
tection; for  they  were  honest  people,  though  they  were  prisoners  in 
Doubting  Castle  to  that  tyrant  Giant  Despair. 

They,  therefore,  I say,  took  with  them  the  head  of  the  giant  (for  his  body 
they  had  buried  under  a heap  of  stones),  and  down  to  the  road  and  to  their 
companions  they  came,  and  showed 
them  what  they  had  done.  Now,  when 
Feeble-mind  and  Ready-to-halt  saw 
that  it  was  the  head  of  Giant  Despair 
indeed,  they  were  very  jocund  and 
merry.  Now,  Christiana,  if  need  was, 
could  play  upon  the  viol,  and  her 
daughter  Mercy  upon  the  lute;  so,  since 
they  were  so  merry  disposed,  she  played 
them  a lesson,  and  Ready-to-halt  would 
dance.  So  he  took  Despondency’s 
daughter  Much  afraid  by  the  hand,  and 
to  dancing  they  went  in  the  road.  True, 
he  could  not  dance  without  one  crutch 
in  his  hand;  but  I promise  you  he 
footed  it  well;  also  the  girl  was  to  be 
commended,  for  she  answered  the  music 
handsomely. 

As  for  Mr.  Despondency,  the  music 
was  not  so  much  to  him ; he  was  for 
feeding  rather  than  dancing,  for  that  he 
was  almost  starved.  So  Christiana  gave  him  some  of  her  bottle  of  spirits 
for  present  relief,  and  then  prepared  him  something  to  eat;  and  in  a little 
time  the  old  gentleman  came  to  himself,  and  began  to  be  finely  revived. 

Now,  I saw  in  my  dream,  when  all  these  things  were  finished,  Mr.  Great- 
heart  took  the  head  of  Giant  Despair,  and  set  it  upon  a pole  by  the  high- 
way-side, right  over  against  the  pillar  that  Christian  erected  for  a caution  to 
pilgrims  that  came  after  to  take  heed  of  entering  into  his  grounds.  Then 
he  writ  under  it,  upon  a marble  stone,  these  verses  following: 


MUCH-AFRAID. 


330 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


“This  is  the  head  of  him  whose  name  only 
In  former  times  did  pilgrims  terrify. 

His  castle’s  down,  and  Diffidence  his  wife 
Brave  Mr.  Great-heart  has  bereft  of  life. 

Despondency,  his  daughter  Much-afraid, 

Great-heart  for  them  also  the  man  has  played. 

Who  hereof  doubts,  if  he  ’ll  but  cast  his  C3'e 
Up  hither,  may  his  scruples  satisfy. 

This  head  also,  when  doubting  cripples  dance, 

Doth  show  from  fears  they  have  deliverance.” 

When  these  men  had  thus  bravely  showed  themselves  against  Doubting 
Castle,  and  had  slain  Giant  Despair,  they  went  forward,  and  went  on  till 
they  came  to  the  Delectable  Mountains,  where  Christian  and  Hopeful 
refreshed  themselves  with  the  varieties  of  the  place.  They  also  acquainted 
themselves  with  the  shepherds  there,  who  welcomed  them,  as  they  had 
done  Christian  before,  unto  the  Delectable  Mountains. 

Now,  the  shepherds  seeing  so  great  a train  follow  Mr.  Great-heart  (for 
with  him  they  were  well  acquainted),  they  said  unto  him,  “Good  sir,  you 
have  got  a goodly  company  here;  pray,  where  did  you  find  all  these?” 

Then  Mr.  Great-heart  replied: 


“ First,  here  is  Christiana  and  her  train, 

Her  sons,  and  her  sons’  wives,  who  like  the  wain, 

Keep  by  the  pole,  and  do  by  compass  steer 
From  sin  to  grace;  else  they  had  not  been  here. 

Next,  here ’s  old  Honest  come  on  pilgrimage, 

Ready-to-halt  too,  who  I dare  engage 
True-hearted  is,  and  so  is  Feeble-mind, 

Who  willing  was  not  to  be  left  behind. 

Despondency,  good  man,  is  coming  after. 

And  so  also  is  Much-afraid  his  daughter. 

May  we  have  entertainment  here,  or  must 
We  farther  go?  Let's  know  whereon  to  trust.” 

Then  said  the  shepherds,  “This  is  a comfortable  company.  You  are 
welcome  to  us,  for  we  have  for  the  feeble,  as  well  as  for  the  strong.  Our 
Prince  has  an  eye  to  what  is  done  to  the  least  of  these;  therefore  infirmity 
must  not  be  a block  to  our  entertainment.”  (Matt.  xxv.  40.)  So  they  had 
them  to  the  palace  door,  and  then  said  unto  them,  “Come  in,  Mr.  Feeble- 
mind;  come  in,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt;  come  in,  Mr.  Despondency,  and  Mrs. 


THE  DELECTABLE  MOUNTAINS  REACHED. 


33i 


Much-afraid,  his  daughter.  These,  Mr.  Great-heart,”  said  the  shepherds  to 
the  guide,  “we  call  in  by  name,  for  that  they  are  most  subject  to  draw  back; 
but  as  for  you  and  the  rest  that  are  strong,  we  leave  you  to  your  wonted 
liberty.” 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “This  day  I see  that  grace  doth  shine  in  your 
faces,  and  that  you  are  my  Lord’s  shepherds  indeed;  for  that  you  have  not 
pushed  these  diseased  neither  with  side  nor  shoulder,  but  have  rather 
strewed  their  way  into  the  palace  with  flowers,  as  you  should.”  (Ezek. 
xxxiv.  25.) 

So  the  feeble  and  weak  went  in,  and 
Mr.  Great-heart  and  the  rest  did  follow. 

When  they  were  also  sat  down,  the 
shepherds  said  to  those  of  the  weaker 
sort,  “What  is  it  that  you  would  have? 
for,”  said  they,  “all  things  must  be 
managed  here  for  the  supporting  of  the 
weak,  as  well  as  the  warning  of  the 
unruly.”  So  they  made  them  a feast 
of  things  easy  of  digestion,  and  that 
were  pleasant  to  the  palate,  and  nour- 
ishing; the  which  when  they  had  re- 
ceived, they  went  to  their  rest,  each  one 
respectively  unto  his  proper  place. 

When  morning  was  come,  because 
the  mountains  were  high  and  the  day 
clear,  and  because  it  was  the  custom  of 
the  shepherds  to  show  the  pilgrims  be- 
fore their  departure  some  rarities;  there- 
fore, after  they  were  ready  and  had 
refreshed  themselves,  the  shepherds  took  them  out  into  the  fields,  and 
showed  them  first  what  they  had  showed  to  Christian  before. 

Then  they  had  them  to  some  new  places.  The  first  was  to  Mount 
Marvel,  where  they  looked,  and  beheld  a man  at  a distance  that  tumbled 
the  hills  about  with  words.  Then  they  asked  the  shepherds  what  that 
should  mean.  So  they  told  them  that  that  man  was  the  son  of  Mr.  Great- 
grace,  of  whom  you  read  in  the  first  part  of  the  records  of  the  Pilgrim’s 
Progress;  and  he  is  set  down  there  to  teach  the  pilgrims  how  to  believe,  or 


332 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


to  tumble  out  of  their  ways  what  difficulties  they  should  meet  with,  by 
faith.  (Mark  xi.  23,  24.)  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “I  know  him;  he  is 
a man  above  many.” 

Then  they  had  them  to  another  place,  called  Mount  Innocent;  and  there 
they  saw  a man  clothed  all  in  white,  and  two  men,  Prejudice  and  Ill-will, 
continually  casting  dirt  upon  him.  Now,  behold,  the  dirt,  whatsoever  they 
cast  at  him,  would  in  a little  time  fall  off  again,  and  his  garment  would  look 
as  clear  as  if  no  dirt  had  been  cast  thereat.  Then  said  the  pilgrims, 

“What  means  this?” 

The  shepherds  answered,  “This  man 
is  named  Godly-man,  and  this  garment 
is  to  show  the  innocency  of  his  life. 
Now,  those  that  throw  dirt  at  him  are 
such  as  hate  his  well-doing;  but,  as  you 
see,  the  dirt  will  not  stick  upon  his 
clothes:  so  it  shall  be  with  him  that 
liveth  truly  innocently  in  the  world. 
Whoever  they  be  that  would  make  such 
men  dirty,  they  labour  all  in  vain;  for 
God,  by  that  a little  time  is  spent,  will 
cause  that  their  innocence  shall  break 
forth  as  the  light,  and  their  righteous- 
ness as  the  noon  day.” 

Then  they  took  them,  and  had  them 
to  Mount  Charity,  where  they  showed 
them  a man  that  had  a bundle  of  cloth, 
lying  before  him,  out  of  which  he  cut 
coats  and  garments  for  the  poor  that 
stood  about  him;  yet  his  bundle  or  roll 

Then  said  they,  “What  should  this  be?” 

“This  is,”  said  the  shepherds,  “to  show  you  that  he  who  has  a heart  to 
give  of  his  labour  to  the  poor,  shall  never  want  wherewithal.  He  that 
watereth  shall  be  watered  himself.  And  the  cake  that  the  widow  gave  to 
the  prophet  did  not  cause  that  she  had  ever  the  less  in  her  barrel.” 

They  had  them  also  to  a place  where  they  saw  one  Fool,  and  one  Want- 
wit,  washing  of  an  Ethiopian,  with  intention  to  make  him  white;  but  the 


ILL-WILL. 


of  cloth  was  never  the  less. 


THE  BY-WAY  TO  HELL. 


333 


more  they  washed  him  the  blacker  he  was.  Then  they  asked  the  shepherds 
what  that  should  mean.  So  they  told  them,  saying,  “Thus  shall  it  be  with 
the  vile  person:  all  means  used  to  get  such  an  one  a good  name,  shall,  in 
conclusion,  tend  but  to  make  him  more  abominable.  Thus  it  was  with  the 
Pharisees,  and  so  shall  it  be  with  all  hypocrites." 

Then  said  Mercy,  the  wife  of  Matthew,  to  Christiana  her  mother, 
“Mother,  I would,  if  it  might  be,  see  the  hole  in  the  hill,  or  that  commonly 
called  the  By-way  to  Hell.”  So  her  mother  brake  her  mind  to  the  shep- 
herds. Then  they  went  to  the  door:  it  was  in  the  side  of  a hill;  and  they 
opened  it,  and  bid  Mercy  hearken  awhile.  So  she  hearkened,  and  heard 
one  saying,  “Cursed  be  my  father  for  holding  of  my  feet  back  from  the  way 
of  peace  and  life.”  And  another  said,  “Oh  that  I had  been  torn  in  pieces 
before  I had,  to  save  my  life,  lost  my  soul!"  And  another  said,  “If  I were 
to  live  again,  how  would  I deny  myself  rather  than  come  to  this  place!” 
Then  there  was  as  if  the  very  earth  groaned  and  quaked  under  the  feet  of 
this  young  woman  for  fear;  so  she  looked  white,  and  came  trembling  away, 
saying,  “Blessed  be  he  and  she  that  are  delivered  from  this  place.” 

Now,  when  the  shepherds  had  shown  them  all  these  things,  then  they 
had  them  back  to  the  palace,  and  entertained  them  with  what  the  house 
would  afford.  But  Mercy,  being  a young  and  breeding  woman,  longed  for 
something  that  she  saw  there,  but  was  ashamed  to  ask.  Her  mother-in- 
law  then  asked  her  what  she  ailed,  for  she  looked  as  one  not  well.  Then 
said  Mercy,  “There  is  a looking-glass  hangs  up  in  the  dining-room,  off  of 
which  I cannot  take  my  mind;  if,  therefore,  I have  it  not,  I think  I shall 
miscarry."  Then  said  her  mother,  “ I will  mention  thy  wants  to  the  shep- 
herds, and  they  will  not  deny  it  thee."  But  she  said,  “ I am  ashamed  that 
these  men  should  know  that  I longed."  “Nay,  my  daughter,"  said  she,  “it 
is  no  shame,  but  a virtue,  to  long  for  such  a thing  as  that."  So  Mercy  said, 
“Then,  mother,  if  you  please,  ask  the  shepherds  if  they  are  willing  to 
sell  it.” 

Now,  the  glass  was  one  of  a thousand.  It  would  present  a man,  one 
way,  with  his  own  features  exactly;  and,  turn  it  but  another  way,  and  it 
would  show  one  the  very  face  and  similitude  of  the  Prince  of  pilgrims 
Himself.  Yea,  I have  talked  with  them  that  can  tell,  and  they  have  said 
that  they  have  seen  the  very  crown  of  thorns  upon  His  head, 
by  looking  in  that  glass;  they  have  therein  also  seen  the  holes  ^dvr^s(||lc 
in  1 1 is  hands,  in  1 1 is  feet,  and  in  1 1 is  side.  Yea,  such  an  God. 


334 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


excellency  is  there  in  this  glass,  that  it  will  show  Him  to  one  where  they 
have  a mind  to  see  Him,  whether  living  or  dead,  whether  in  earth  or  in 
heaven,  whether  in  a state  of  humiliation  or  in  His  exaltation,  whether 
coming  to  suffer  or  coming  to  reign.  (James  i.  23;  I.  Cor.  xiii.  12;  II. 
Cor.  iii.  18.) 

Christiana,  therefore,  went  to  the  shepherds  apart — (now,  the  names  oi 
the  shepherds  were  Knowledge,  Experience,  Watchful,  and  Sincere), — and 
said  unto  them,  “There  is  one  of  my  daughters,  a breeding  woman,  that  I 
think  doth  long  for  something  that  she  hath  seen  in  this  house,  and  she 
thinks  that  she  shall  miscarry  if  she  should  by  you  be  denied.” 

Experience.  Call  her,  call  her;  she  shall  assuredly  have  what  we  can 
help  her  to.  So  they  called  her,  and  said  to  her,  “Mercy,  what  is  that 
thing  thou  wouldst  have?”  Then  she  blushed,  and  said,  “The  great  glass 
that  hangs  up  in  the  dining-room.”  So  Sincere  ran  and  fetched  it;  and  with 
a joyful  consent  it  was  given  her.  Then  she  bowed  her  head,  and  gave 
thanks,  and  said,  “By  this  I know  that  I have  obtained  favour  in  your  eyes.” 

They  also  gave  to  the  other  young  women  such  things  as  they  desired, 
and  to  their  husbands  great  commendations  for  that  they  joined  with 
Great-heart  to  the  slaying  of  Giant  Despair  and  the  demolishing  of 
Doubting  Castle. 

About  Christiana’s  neck  the  shepherds  put  a bracelet,  and  so  they  did 
about  the  necks  of  her  four  daughters;  also  they  put  earrings  in  their  ears, 
and  jewels  on  their  foreheads. 

When  they  were  minded  to  go  hence,  they  let  them  go  in  peace,  but 
gave  not  to  them  those  certain  cautions  which  before  were  given  to  Chris- 
tian and  his  companion.  The  reason  was,  for  that  these  had  Great-heart  to 
be  their  guide,  who  was  one  that  was  well  acquainted  with  things,  and  so 
could  give  them  their  cautions  more  seasonably;  to  wit,  even  then  when 
the  danger  was  nigh  the  approaching.  What  cautions  Christian  and  his 
companion  had  received  of  the  shepherds,  they  had  also  lost  by  that  the 
time  was  come  that  they  had  need  to  put  them  in  practice.  Wherefore, 
here  was  the  advantage  that  this  company  had  over  the  other. 

From  hence  they  went  on  singing,  and  they  said: 


“ Behold,  how  fitly  are  the  stages  set. 

For  their  relief  that  pilgrims  are  become, 

And  how  they  us  receive  without  one  let, 

That  make  the  other  life  our  mark  and  home! 


Evangelist  offered  to  lay  hands  on  him,  to  turn  him  into  the  way  again. 


A NEW  COMPANION. 


337 


“ What  novelties  they  have,  to  us  they  give, 

That  we,  though  pilgrims,  joyful  lives  may  live; 
They  do  upon  us,  too,  such  things  bestow, 

That  show  we  pilgrims  are,  where’er  we  go.” 


When  they  were  gone  from  the  shepherds,  they  quickly  came  to  the 
place  where  Christian  met  with  one  Turn-away,  that  dwelt  in  the  town  of 
Apostasy.  Wherefore  of  him  Mr.  Great-heart,  their  guide,  did  now  put 
them  in  mind,  saying,  “This  is  the  place  where  Christian  met  with  one 
Turn-away,  who  carried  with  him  the  character  of  his  rebellion  at  his  back. 
And  this  I have  to  say  concerning  this  man:  he  would  hearken  to  no 
counsel,  but,  once  falling,  persuasion  could  not  stop  him.  When  he  came 
to  the  place  where  the  Cross  and  the  sepulchre  were,  he  did  meet  with  one 
that  bid  him  look  there;  but  he  gnashed  with  his  teeth,  and  stamped,  and 
said  he  was  resolved  to  go  back  to  his  own  town.  Before  he  came  to  the 
gate,  he  met  with  Evangelist,  who  offered  to  lay  hands  on  him,  to  turn  him 
into  the  way  again.  But  this  turnaway  resisted  him;  and  having  done 
much  despite  unto  him,  he  got  away  over  the  wall,  and  so  escaped  his 
hand.” 

Then  they  went  on;  and  just  at  the  place  where  Little-Faith  formerly 
was  robbed,  there  stood  a man  with  his  sword  drawn,  and  his  face  all 
bloody.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  “Who  art  thou?"  The  man  made 
answer,  saying,  “I  am  one  whose  name  is  Valiant-for-truth.  I am  a 
pilgrim,  and  am  going  to  the  Celestial  City.  Now,  as  I was  in  my  way, 
there  were  three  men  did  beset  me,  and  propounded  unto  me  these  three 
things:  i.  Whether  I would  become  one  of  them?  (Prov.  i.  1 1 — 14.) 
2.  Or  go  back  from  whence  I came?  3.  Or  die  upon  the  place?  To  the 
first  I answered,  I had  been  a true  man  a long  season,  and  therefore  it 
could  not  be  expected  that  I should  now  cast  in  my  lot  with  thieves.  Then 
they  demanded  what  I should  say  to  the  second.  So  I told  them  that  the 
place  from  whence  I came,  had  I not  found  incommodity  there,  I had  not 
forsaken  at  all;  but,  finding  it  altogether  unsuitable  to  me,  and  very 
unprofitable  for  me,  I forsook  it  for  this  way.  Then  they  asked  me  what  I 
said  to  the  third.  And  I told  them  my  life  cost  more  dear  far  than  that  1 
should  lightly  give  it  away.  Besides,  you  have  nothing  to  do  thus  to  put 
things  to  my  choice ; wherefore  at  your  peril  be  it  if  you  meddle.  Then 
these  three,  to  wit,  Wild-head,  Inconsiderate,  and  Pragmatic,  drew  upon 


338 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


me,  and  I also  drew  upon  them.  So  we  fell  to  it,  one  against  three,  for  the 
space  of  above  three  hours.  They  have  left  upon  me,  as  you  see,  some  of 
the  marks  of  their  valour,  and  have  also  carried  away  with  them  some  of 
mine.  They  are  but  just  now  gone:  I suppose  they  might,  as  the  saying 
is,  hear  your  horse  dash,  and  so  they  betook  them  to  flight.” 

Great.  But  here  was  great  odds,  three  against  one. 

Valiant.  ’T  is  true;  but  little  or  more  are  nothing  to  him  that  has  the 
truth  on  his  side.  “Though  an  host  should  encamp  against  me,”  said  one 

(Psa.  xxvii.  3),  “my  heart  shall  not 
fear:  though  war  should  rise  against 
me,  in  this  will  I be  confident.”  “Be- 
sides,” said  he,  “ I have  read  in  some 
records  that  one  man  has  fought  an 
army;  and  how  many  did  Samson  slay 
with  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass?” 

Great.  Then  said  the  guide,  “Why 
did  you  not  cry  out,  that  some  might 
have  come  in  for  your  succour?” 
Valiant.  So  I did,  to  my  King, 
who,  I knew,  could  hear  me,  and  afford 
invisible  help;  and  that  was  sufficient 
for  me. 

Great.  Then  said  Great-heart  to 
Mr.  Valiant -for -truth,  “Thou  hast 
worthily  behaved  thyself.  Let  me  see 
thy  sword.”  So  he  showed  it  him. 
When  he  had  taken  it  in  his  hand,  and 
looked  thereon  awhile,  he  said,  “Ha!  it 
is  a right  Jerusalem  blade.” 

Valiant.  It  is  so.  Let  a man  have  one  of  these  blades,  with  a hand  to 
wield  it  and  skill  to  use  it,  and  he  may  venture  upon  an  angel  with  it.  He 
need  not  fear  its  holding,  if  he  can  but  tell  how  to  lay  on.  Its  edges  will 
never  blunt.  It  will  cut  flesh  and  bones,  and  soul  and  spirit,  and  all. 
(Heb.  iv.  12.) 

Great.  But  you  fought  a great  while.  I wonder  you  were 
not  weary. 

Valiant.  I fought  till  my  sword  did  cleave  to  my  hand; 


WILD-HEAD. 


The  Word. 
The  Faith. 
Blood. 


VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH 


HOW  VALIA  NT- FOR -TRUTH  BORE  HIMSELF. 


341 


and  when  they  were  joined  together,  as  if  a sword  grew  out  of  my  arm, 
and  when  the  blood  ran  through  my  fingers,  then  I fought  with  most 
courage. 

Great.  Thou  hast  done  well;  thou  hast  resisted  unto  blood,  striving 
against  sin.  Thou  shalt  abide  by  us,  come  in  and  go  out  with  us,  for  we 
are  thy  companions. 

Then  they  took  him,  washed  his  wounds,  and  gave  him  of  what  they  had, 
to  refresh  him;  and  so  they  went  on  together. 

Now,  as  they  went  on,  because  Mr.  Great-heart  was  delighted  in  him  (for 
he  loved  one  greatly  that  he  found  to  be  a man  of  his  hands),  and  because 
there  were  in  company  them  that  were  feeble  and  weak,  therefore  he  ques- 
tioned with  him  about  many  things ; as,  first,  what  countryman  he  was. 

Valiant.  I am  of  Dark-land;  for  there  I was  born,  and  there  my  father 
and  mother  are  still. 

Great.  “Dark-land!”  said  he  guide;  “doth  not  that  lie  upon  the  same 
coast  with  the  City  of  Destruction?” 

Valiant.  Yes,  it  doth.  Now,  that  which  caused  me  to  come  on  pil- 
grimage was  this.  We  had  one  Mr.  Tell-true  come  into  our  parts,  and  he 
told  it  about  what  Christian  had  done,  that  went  from  the  City  of  Destruc- 
tion; namely,  how  he  had  forsaken  his  wife  and  children,  and  had  betaken 
himself  to  a pilgrim’s  life.  It  was  also  confidently  reported,  how  he  had 
killed  a serpent  that  did  come  out  to  resist  him  in  his  journey;  and  how  he 
got  through  to  whither  he  intended.  It  was  also  told  what  welcome  he  had 
at  all  his  Lord’s  lodgings,  specially  when  he  came  to  the  gates  of  the 
Celestial  City;  “For  there,”  said  the  man,  “he  was  received  with  sound  of 
trumpet  by  a company  of  Shining  Ones.”  He  told  also  how  all  the  bells 
in  the  City  did  ring  for  joy  at  his  reception,  and  what  golden  garments  he 
was  clothed  with;  with  many  other  things  that  now  I shall  forbear  to  relate. 
In  a word,  that  man  so  told  the  story  of  Christian  and  his  travels,  that  my 
heart  fell  into  a burning  haste  to  be  gone  after  him;  nor  could  father  or 
mother  stay  me.  So  I got  from  them,  and  am  come  thus  far  on  my  way. 

Great.  You  came  in  at  the  gate,  did  you  not? 

Valiant.  Yes,  yes;  for  the  same  man  also  told  us,  that  all  would  be 
nothing  if  we  did  not  begin  to  enter  this  way  at  the  gate. 

Great.  “Look  you,”  said  the  guide  to  Christiana,  “the  pilgrimage  of 
your  husband,  with  what  he  has  gotten  thereby,  is  spread  abroad  far  and 
near.” 


342 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Valiant.  Why,  is  this  Christian’s  wife? 

Great.  Yes,  that  it  is,  and  these  also  are  his  four  sons. 

Valiant.  What!  and  going  on  pilgrimage  too? 

Great.  Yes,  verily,  they  are  following  after. 

Valiant.  It  glads  me  at  heart.  Good  man,  how  joyful  will  he  be  when 
he  shall  see  them  that  would  not  go  with  him,  yet  to  enter  after  him  in  at 
the  gates  into  the  City ! 

Great.  Without  doubt  it  will  be  a comfort  to  him;  for,  next  to  the  joy 
of  seeing  himself  there,  it  will  be  a joy  to  meet  there  his  wife  and  children. 

Valiant.  But,  now  you  are  upon  that,  pray  let  me  hear  your  opinion 
about  it.  Some  make  a question  whether  we  shall  know  one  another  when 
we  are  there. 

Great.  Do  they  think  they  shall  know  themselves,  then  ? or  that  they 
shall  rejoice  to  see  themselves  in  that  bliss?  And  if  they  think  they  shall 
know  and  do  this,  why  not  know  others,  and  rejoice  in  their  welfare  also? 
Again,  since  relations  are  our  second  self,  though  that  state  will  be  dis- 
solved there,  yet  why  may  it  not  be  rationally  concluded  that  we  shall  be 
more  glad  to  see  them  there  than  to  see  they  are  wanting? 

Valiant.  Well,  I perceive  whereabouts  you  are  as  to  this.  Have  you 
any  more  things  to  ask  me  about  my  beginning  to  come  on  pilgrimage? 

Great.  Yes.  Were  your  father  and  mother  willing  that  you  should 
become  a pilgrim? 

Valiant.  Oh,  no;  they  used  all  means  imaginable  to  persuade  me  to 
stay  at  home. 

Great.  Why,  what  could  they  say  against  it? 

Valiant.  They  said  it  was  an  idle  life;  and,  if  I myself  were  not 
inclined  to  sloth  and  laziness,  I would  never  countenance  a pilgrim’s  con- 
dition. 

Great.  And  what  did  they  say  else? 

Valiant.  Why,  they  told  me  that  it  was  a dangerous  way:  “Yea,  the 
most  dangerous  way  in  the  world,”  said  they,  “is  that  which  the  pilgrims 

g°- 

Great.  Did  they  show  you  wherein  this  way  is  so  dangerous? 

Valiant.  Yes;  and  that  in  many  particulars. 

Great.  Name  some  of  them. 

Valiant.  They  told  me  of  the  Slough  of  Despond,  where  Christian  was 
well-nigh  smothered.  They  told  me  that  there  were  archers  standing 


VALIA  NT- FOR -TRUTH  VICTORIOUS. 


343 


ready  in  Beelzebub’s  castle  to  shoot  them  who  should  knock  at  the  wicket- 
gate  for  entrance.  They  told  me  also  of  the  wood  and  dark  mountains;  of 
the  Hill  Difficulty;  of  the  lions;  and  also  of  the  three  giants,  Bloody-man, 
Maul,  and  Slay-good.  They  said  moreover  that  there  was  a foul  fiend 
haunted  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  and  that  Christian  was  by  him  almost 
bereft  of  life.  “Besides,”  said  they,  “you  must  go  over  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death,  where  the  hobgoblins  are,  where  the  light  is  darkness, 
where  the  way  is  full  of  snares,  pits,  traps,  and  gins.”  They  told  rne  also 
of  Giant  Despair,  of  Doubting  Castle,  and  of  the  ruin  that  the  pilgrims  met 
with  there.  Further,  they  said  I must  go  over  the  Enchanted  Ground, 
which  was  dangerous;  and  that,  after  all  this,  I should  find  a river,  over 
which  I should  find  no  bridge,  and  that  that  river  did  lie  betwixt  me  and 
the  Celestial  Country. 

Great.  And  was  this  all  ? 

Valiant.  No.  They  also  told  me  that  this  way  was  full  of  deceivers, 
and  of  persons  that  laid  wait  there  to  turn  good  men  out  of  the  path. 

Great.  But  how  did  they  make  that  out? 

Valiant.  They  told  me  that  Mr.  Wordly  Wiseman  did  there  lie  in  wait 
to  deceive.  They  also  said  that  there  were  Formality  and  Hypocrisy  con- 
tinually on  the  road.  They  said  also  that  By-ends,  Talkative,  or  Demas 
would  go  near  to  gather  me  up;  that  the  Flatterer  would  catch  me  in  his 
net;  or  that,  with  green-headed  Ignorance,  I would  presume  to  go  on  to 
the  gate,  from  whence  he  was  sent  back  to  the  hole  that  was  in  the  side  of 
the  hill,  and  made  to  go  the  by-way  to  hell. 

Great.  I promise  you,  this  was  enough  to  discourage  you ; but  did  they 
make  an  end  here  ? 

Valiant.  No  stay.  They  told  me  also  of  many  that  had  tried  that  way 
of  old,  and  that  had  gone  a great  way  therein,  to  see  if  they  could  find 
something  of  the  glory  there  that  so  many  had  so  much  talked  of  from  time 
to  time;  and  how  they  came  back  again,  and  befooled  themselves  for 
setting  a foot  out  of  doors  in  that  path,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  the  country. 
And  they  named  several  that  did  so,  as  Obstinate  and  Pliable,  Mistrust  and 
Timorous,  Turn-away  and  old  Atheist;  with  several  more,  who,  they  said, 
had  some  of  them  gone  far  to  see  what  they  could  find,  but  not  one  of 
them  found  so  much  advantage  by  going  as  amounted  to  the  weight  ol  a 
feather. 

Great.  Said  they  anything  more  to  discourage  you? 


344 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


Valiant.  Yes;  they  told  me  of  one  Mr.  Fearing,  who  was  a pilgrim, 
and  how  he  found  this  way  so  solitary,  that  he  never  had  a comfortable 
hour  therein ; also  that  Mr.  Despondency  had  like  to  have  been  starved 
therein;  yea,  and  also  (which  I had  almost  forgot)  that  Christian  himself, 
about  whom  there  had  been  such  a noise,  after  all  his  ventures  for  a celestial 
crown,  was  certainly  drowned  in  the  Black  River,  and  never  went  a foot 
farther,  however  it  was  smothered  up. 

Great.  And  did  none  of  these  things  discourage  you  ? 

Valiant.  No  ; they  seemed  but  as  so  many  nothings  to  me. 

Great.  How  came  that  about? 

Valiant.  Why,  I still  believe  what  Mr.  Tell-truth  had  said;  and  that 
carried  me  beyond  them  all. 

Great.  Then  this  was  your  victory,  even  your  faith. 

Valiant.  It  was  so.  I believed,  and  therefore  came  out,  got  into  the 
way,  fought  all  that  set  themselves  against  me,  and,  by  believing,  am  come 
to  this  place. 

“Who  would  true  valour  see, 

Let  him  come  hither; 

One  here  will  constant  be, 

Come  wind,  come  weather ; 

There ’s  no  discouragement 
Shall  make  him  once  relent 
His  first  avowed  intent 

To  be  a pilgrim. 

“ Whoso  beset  him  round 
With  dismal  stories, 

Do  but  themselves  confound — 

His  strength  the  more  is. 

No  lion  can  him  fright ; 

He  ’ll  with  a giant  fight, 

But  he  will  have  a right 

To  be  a pilgrim. 

“Hobgoblin  nor  foul  fiend 
Can  daunt  his  spirit; 

He  knows  he  at  the  end 
Shall  life  inherit. 

Then,  fancies,  fly  away, 

He'll  fear  not  what  men  say; 

He  ’ll  labour  night  and  day 

To  be  a pilgrim.” 


THE  ENCHANTED  GROUND. 


345 


By  this  time  they  were  got  to  the  Enchanted  Ground,  where  the  air 
naturally  tended  to  make  one  drowsy.  And  that  place  was  all  grown  over 
with  briers  and  thorns,  excepting  here  and  there,  where  was  an  enchanted 
arbour,  upon  which  if  a man  sits,  or  in  which  if  a man  sleeps,  it  is  a ques- 
tion, say  some,  whether  ever  he  shall  rise  or  wake  again  in  this  world. 
Over  this  forest,  therefore,  they  went,  both  one  and  another;  and  Mr.  Great- 
heart  went  before,  for  that  he  was  the  guide,  and  Mr.  Valiant-for- truth  came 
behind,  being  rear-guard,  for  fear  lest  peradventure  some  fiend,  or  dragon, 
or  giant,  or  thief,  should  fall  upon  their  rear,  and  so  do  mischief.  They 
went  on  here,  each  man  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand,  for  they  knew  it 
was  a dangerous  place.  Also  they  cheered  up  one  another  as  well  as  they 
could.  Feeble-mind,  Mr.  Great-heart  commanded,  should  come  up  after 
him;  and  Mr.  Despondency  was  under  the  eye  of  Mr.  Valiant. 

Now,  they  had  not  gone  far,  but  a great  mist  and  darkness  fell  upon 
them  all,  so  that  they  could  scarce,  for  a great  while,  see  the  one  the  other; 
wherefore  they  were  forced,  for  some  time,  to  feel  for  one  another  by 
words;  for  they  walked  not  by  sight.  But  any  one  must  think  that  here 
was  but  sorry  going  for  the  best  of  them  all ; but  how  much  worse  for  the 
women  and  children,  who  both  of  feet  and  heart  were  but  tender!  Yet  so 
it  was,  that  through  the  encouraging  words  of  him  that  led  in  the  front, 
they  made  a pretty  good  shift  to  wag  along. 

The  way  also  was  here  very  wearisome  through  dirt  and  slabbiness. 
Nor  was  there  on  all  this  ground  so  much  as  one  inn  or  victualling-house, 
therein  to  refresh  the  feebler  sort.  Here,  therefore,  was  grunting,  and 
puffing,  and  sighing.  While  one  tumbleth  over  a bush,  another  sticks  fast 
in  the  dirt;  and  the  children,  some  of  them,  lost  their  shoes  in  the  mire. 
While  one  cries  out,  “I  am  clown!”  and  another,  “Ho!  where  are  you?” 
and  a third,  “The  bushes  have  got  such  fast  hold  on  me,  I think  I cannot 
get  away  from  them.” 

Then  they  came  at  an  arbour,  warm,  and  promising  much  refreshing  to 
the  pilgrims;  for  it  was  finely  wrought  above  head,  beautified  with  greens, 
furnished  with  benches  and  settles.  It  also  had  in  it  a soft  couch,  whereon 
the  weary  might  lean.  This,  you  must  think,  all  things  considered,  was 
tempting;  for  the  pilgrims  already  began  to  be  foiled  with  the  badness  of 
the  way;  but  there  was  not  one  of  them  that  made  so  much  as  a motion  to 
stop  there.  Yea,  for  aught  I could  perceive,  they  continually  gave  so  good 
heed  to  the  advice  of  their  guide,  and  he  did  so  faithfully  tell  them  of 


34-6 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


dangers,  and  of  the  nature  of  dangers  when  they  were  at  them,  that  usually, 
when  they  were  nearest  to  them,  they  did  most  pluck  up  their  spirits,  and 
hearten  one  another  to  deny  the  flesh.  This  arbour  was  called  “The 
Slothful’s  Friend,”  on  purpose  to  allure,  if  it  might  be,  some  of  the  pilgrims 
there  to  take  up  their  rest  when  weary. 

I saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  in  this  their  solitary  ground, 
till  they  came  to  a place  at  which  a man  is  apt  to  lose  his  way.  Now, 
though  when  it  was  light  their  guide  could  well  enough  tell  how  to  miss 
those  ways  that  led  wrong,  yet,  in  the  dark,  he  was  put  to  a stand.  But  he 
had  in  his  pocket  a map  of  all  ways  leading  to  or  from  the  Celestial  City: 
wherefore  he  struck  a light  (for  he  also  never  goes  without  his  tinder-box), 
and  takes  a view  of  his  book  or  map,  which  bids  him  be  careful-  in  that 
place  to  turn  to  the  right-hand  way.  And  had  he  not  here  been  careful  to 
look  in  his  map,  they  had,  in  all  probability,  been  smothered  in  the  mud; 
for,  just  a little  before  them,  and  that  at  the  end  of  the  cleanest  way  too, 
was  a pit,  none  knows  how  deep,  full  of  nothing  but  mud,  there  made  on 
purpose  to  destroy  the  pilgrims  in. 

Then  thought  I with  myself,  “Who  that  goeth  on  pilgrimage 
God’s  Book,  but  would  have  one  of  those  maps  about  him,  that  he  may 
look,  when  he  is  at  a stand,  which  is  the  way  he  must  take?” 

They  went  on  then  in  this  Enchanted  Ground  till  they  came  to  where 
was  another  arbour,  and  it  was  built  by  the  highway-side.  And  in  that 
arbour  there  lay  two  men,  whose  names  were  Heedless  and  Too-bold. 
These  two  went  thus  far  on  pilgrimage;  but  here,  being  wearied  with  their 
journey,  they  sat  down  to  rest  themselves,  and  so  fell  fast  asleep.  When 
the  pilgrims  saw  them,  they  stood  still,  and  shook  their  heads;  for  they 
knew  that  the  sleepers  were  in  a pitiful  case.  Then  they  consulted  what  to 
do, — whether  to  go  on  and  leave  them  in  their  sleep,  or  to  step  to  them, 
and  try  to  awake  them.  So  they  concluded  to  go  to  them  and  wake  them ; 
that  is,  if  they  could;  but  with  this  caution,  namely,  to  take  heed  that  them- 
selves did  not  sit  down  nor  embrace  the  offered  benefit  of  that  arbour. 

So  they  went  in,  and  spake  to  the  men,  and  called  each  one  by  his  name 
(for  the  guide,  it  seems,  did  know  them);  but  there  was  no  voice  nor 
answer.  Then  the  guide  did  shake  them,  and  do  what  he  could  to  disturb 
them.  Then  said  one  of  them,  “ I will  pay  you  when  I take  my  money." 
At  which  the  guide  shook  his  head.  “I  will  fight  so  long  as  I can  hold  my 
sword  in  my  hand,”  said  the  other.  At  that,  one  of  the  children  laughed. 


THE  ENCHANTED  GROUND. 


347 


Then  said  Christiana,  “What  is  the  meaning  of  this?”  The  guide  said, 
“They  talk  in  their  sleep.  If  you  strike  them,  beat  them,  or  whatever  else 
you  do  to  them,  they  will  answer  you  after  this  fashion ; or,  as  one  of  them 
said  in  old  time,  when  the  waves  of  the  sea  did  beat  upon  him,  and  he 
slept  as  one  upon  the  mast  of  a ship,  ‘When  shall  I awake?  I will  seek  it 
yet  again.’  (Prov.  xxiii.  34,  35.)  You  know,  when  men  talk  in  their  sleep, 
they  say  anything,  but  their  words  are  not  governed  either  by  faith  or 
reason.  There  is  an  incoherency  in  their  words  now,  as  there  was  before 
betwixt  their  going  on  pilgrimage  and  sitting  down  here.  This,  then,  is 
the  mischief  of  it:  when  heedless  ones  go  on  pilgrimage,  ’t  is  twenty  to  one 
but  they  are  served  thus.  For  this  Enchanted  Ground  is  one  of  the  last 
refuges  that  the  enemy  to  pilgrims  has ; wherefore,  it  is,  as  you  see,  placed 
almost  at  the  end  of  the  way,  and  so  it  standeth  against  us  with  the  more 
advantage.  For  when,  thinks  the  enemy,  will  these  fools  be  so  desirous  to 
sit  down  as  when  they  are  weary?  and  when  so  like  to  be  weary  as  when 
almost  at  their  journey’s  end  ? Therefore  it  is,  I say,  that  the  Enchanted 
Ground  is  placed  so  near  to  the  Land  of  Beulah,  and  so  near  the  end  of 
their  race.  Wherefore,  let  pilgrims  look  to  themselves,  lest  it  happen  to 
them  as  it  has  done  to  these,  that,  as  you  see,  are  fallen  asleep,  and  none 
can  wake  them.” 

Then  the  pilgrims  desired,  with  trembling,  to  go  forward;  only  they 
prayed  their  guide  to  strike  a light,  that  they  might  go  the  rest  of  their  way 
by  the  help  of  the  light  of  a lantern.  So  he  struck  a light,  and 
they  went  by  the  help  of  that  through  the  rest  of  this  way,  ^ord  °f 
though  the  darkness  was  very  great.  (II.  Pet.  i.  19.)  But  the 
children  began  to  be  sorely  weary;  and  they  cried  out  to  Him  that  loveth 
pilgrims  to  make  their  way  more  comfortable.  So,  by  that  they  had  gone 
a little  farther,  a wind  arose  that  drove  away  the  fog;  so  the  air  became 
more  clear.  Yet  they  were  not  off,  by  much,  of  the  Enchanted  Ground; 
only  now  they  could  see  one  another  better,  and  the  way  wherein  they 
should  walk. 

Now,  when  they  were  almost  at  the  end  of  this  ground,  they  perceived 
that  a little  before  them  was  a solemn  noise,  as  of  one  that  was  much  con- 
cerned. So  they  went  on,  and  looked  before  them;  and  behold,  they  saw, 
as  they  thought,  a man  upon  his  knees,  with  hands  and  eyes  lift  up,  and 
speaking,  as  they  thought,  earnestly  to  one  that  was  above.  They  drew 
nigh,  but  could  not  tell  what  he  said;  so  they  went  softly  till  he  had  done. 


348 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


When  he  had  done,  he  got  up,  and  began  to  run  towards  the  Celestial 
City. 

Then  Mr.  Great-heart  called  after  him,  saying,  “So-ho,  friend!  let  us  have 
your  company,  if  you  go,  as  I suppose  you  do,  to  the  Celestial  City.” 

So  the  man  stopped,  and  they  came  up  to  him.  But,  as  soon  as  Mr. 
Honest  saw  him,  he  said,  “ I know  this  man.” 

Then  said  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth,  “Prithee,  who  is  it?” 

“It  is  one,”  said  he,  “that  comes  from  whereabout  I dwelt.  His  name  is 
Stand-fast,  he  is  certainly  a right  good  pilgrim.” 

So  they  came  up  one  to  another.  And  presently  Stand-fast  said  to  old 
Honest,  “Ho,  father  Honest,  are  you  there?” 

“Ay,”  said  he,  “that  I am,  as  sure  as  you  are  there.” 

“Right  glad  am  I,”  said  Mr.  Stand-fast,  “that  I have  found  you  on  this 
road.” 

“And  as  glad  am  I,"  said  the  other,  “that  I espied  you  upon  your  knees.” 
Then  Mr.  Stand-fast  blushed,  and  said,  “But  why?  did  you  see  me?” 
“Yes,  that  I did,”  quoth  the  other,  “and  with  my  heart  was  glad  at  the 
sight.” 

“Why,  what  did  you  think?”  said  Stand-fast. 

“Think!”  said  old  Honest;  “what  should  I think?  I thought  we  had  an 
honest  man  upon  the  road,  and  therefore  should  have  his  company  by-and- 
bye.” 

“If  you  thought  not  amiss,”  said  Stand-fast,  “how  happy  am  I!  But,  if 
I be  not  as  I should,  I alone  must  bear  it.” 

“That  is  true,”  said  the  other;  “but  your  fear  doth  further  confirm  me 
that  things  are  right  betwixt  the  Prince  of  pilgrims  and  your  soul ; for  He 
saith,  ‘Blessed  is  the  man  that  feareth  always.”’  (Prov.  xxviii.  14.) 

Valiant.  Well,  but,  brother,  I pray  thee,  tell  us  what  wras 
They  found  it  that  was  the  cause  of  thy  being  upon  thy  knees  even 
prayer.  now : was  it  for  that  some  special  mercy  laid  obligations 

upon  thee,  or  how? 

Stand.  Why,  we  are,  as  you  see,  upon  the  Enchanted  Ground;  and  as  I 
u^as  coming  along,  I was  musing  with  myself  of  what  a dangerous  road  the 
road  in  this  place  was,  and  how  many  that  had  come  even 
What  it  was  thus  far  on  pilgrimage,  had  here  been  stopped  and  been  de- 
hin!  upmi  his  stroyed.  I thought  also  of  the  manner  of  the  death  with 
knees.  which  this  place  destroyeth  men.  Those  that  die  here  die  of 


She  still  followed  me  with  enticements.” 


STAND -FAST  REPULSES  MADAM  BUBBLE. 


35i 


no  violent  distemper:  the  death  which  such  die  is  not  grievous  to  them. 
For  he  that  goeth  away  in  such  a sleep,  begins  that  journey  with  desire  and 
pleasure.  Yea,  such  acquiesce  in  the  will  of  that  disease. 

Hon.  Then  Mr.  Honest,  interrupting  of  him,  said,  “Did  you  see  the  two 
men  asleep  in  the  arbour?” 

Stand.  Ay,  ay,  I saw  Heedless  and  Too-bold  there;  and,  for  aught  I 
know,  there  they  will  lie  till  they  rot.  (Prov.  x.  7.)  But  let  me  go  on  in 
my  tale.  As  I was  thus  musing,  as  I said,  there  was  one  in  very  pleasant 
attire,  but  old,  who  presented  herself  to  me,  and  offered  me  three  things ; 
to  wit,  her  body,  her  purse,  and  her  bed.  Now,  the  truth  is,  I was  both 
aweary  and  sleepy;  I am  also  as  poor  as  an  owlet,  and  that,  perhaps,  the 
witch  knew.  Well,  I repulsed  her  once  or  twice;  but  she  put  by  my 
repulses,  and  smiled.  Then  I began  to  be  angry;  but  she  mattered  that 
nothing  at  all.  Then  she  made  offers  again,  and  said,  if  I would  be  ruled 
by  her,  she  would  make  me  great  and  happy.  “For,”  said  she,  “I  am  the 
mistress  of  the  world,  and  men  are  made  happy  by  me.  Then 
I asked  her  name,  and  she  told  me  it  was  Madam  Bubble.  Madam 
This  set  me  further  from  her;  but  she  still  followed  me  with  bubble’  or 
enticements.  Then  I betook  me,  as  you  saw,  to  my  knees;  world, 
and,  with  hands  lift  up,  and  cries,  I prayed  to  Him  that  had 
said  He  would  help.  So,  just  as  you  came  up,  the  gentlewoman  went  her 
way.  Then  I continued  to  give  thanks  for  this  my  great  deliverance;  for  I 
verily  believe  she  intended  no  good,  but  rather  sought  to  make  stop  of  me 
in  my  journey. 

Hon.  Without  doubt  her  designs  were  bad.  But  stay:  now  you  talk 
of  her,  methinks  I either  have  seen  her,  or  have  read  some  story  of 
her. 

Stand.  Perhaps  you  have  done  both. 

Hon.  Madam  Bubble?  Is  she  not  a tall,  comely  dame,  somewhat  of  a 
swarthy  complexion  ? 

Stand.  Right,  you  hit  it:  she  is  just  such  a one. 

Hon.  Does  she  not  speak  very  smoothly,  and  give  you  a smile  at  the 
end  of  a sentence  ? 

Stand.  You  fall  right  upon  it  again,  for  these  are  her  very  actions. 

Hon.  Doth  she  not  wear  a great  purse  by  her  side,  and  is  not  her  hand 
often  in  it,  fingering  her  money,  as  if  that  was  her  heart’s  delight? 

Stand.  ’T  is  iust  so.  Had  she  stood  by  all  this  while,  you  could  not 


352 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


more  amply  have  set  her  forth  before  me,  nor  have  better  described  her 
features. 

Hon.  Then  he  that  drew  her  picture  was  a good  limner,  and  he  that 
wrote  of  her  said  true. 

Great.  This  woman  is  a witch,  and  it  is  by  virtue  of  her  sorceries  that 
this  ground  is  enchanted.  Whoever  doth  lay  his  head  down 
The  world.  in  her  lap,  had  as  good  lay  it  down  upon  that  block  over  which 
the  axe  doth  hang;  and  whoever  lay  their  eyes  upon  her 
beauty,  are  accounted  the  enemies  of  God.  This  is  she  that  maintaineth  in 
their  splendour  all  those  that  are  the  enemies  of  pilgrims.  (James  iv.  4.) 
Yea,  this  is  she  that  hath  bought  off  many  a man  from  a pilgrim’s  life. 
She  is  a great  gossiper:  she  is  always,  both  she  and  her  daughters,  at  one 
pilgrim’s  heels  or  other;  now  commending,  -and  then  preferring  the  excel- 
lences of  this  life.  She  is  a bold  and  impudent  slut;  she  will  talk  with  any 
man.  She  always  laugheth  poor  pilgrims  to  scorn,  but  highly  commends 
the  rich.  If  there  be  one  cunning  to  get  money  in  a place,  she  will  speak 
well  of  him  from  house  to  house.  She  loveth  banqueting  and  feasting 
mainly  well ; she  is  always  at  one  full  table  or  another.  She  has  given  it 
out  in  some  places  that  she  is  a goddess,  and  therefore  some  do  worship 
her.  She  has  her  times  and  open  places  of  cheating;  and  she  will  say  and 
avow  it,  that  none  can  show  a good  comparable  to  hers.  She  promiseth  to 
dwell  with  children’s  children,  if  they  will  but  love  her  and  make  much  of 
her.  She  will  cast  out  of  her  purse  gold  like  dust,  in  some  places  and  to 
some  persons.  She  loves  to  be  sought  after,  spoken  well  of,  and  to  lie  in 
the  bosoms  of  men.  She  is  never  weary  of  commending  her  commodities, 
and  she  loves  them  most  that  think  best  of  her.  She  will  promise,  to 
some,  crowns  and  kingdoms,  if  they  will  but  take  her  advice;  yet  many 
hath  she  brought  to  the  halter,  and  ten  thousand  times  more  to  hell. 

Stand.  “Oh,”  said  Mr.  Stand-fast,  “what  a mercy  it  is  that  I did  resist 
her!  for  whither  might  she  have  drawn  me?” 

Great.  Whither  I nay,  none  but  God  knows  whither;  but  in  general,  to 
be  sure,  she  would  have  drawn  thee  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts, 
which  drown  men  in  destruction  and  perdition.  (I.  Tim.  vi.  9.)  T was 
she  that  set  Absalom  against  his  father,  and  Jeroboam  against  his  master. 
T was  she  that  persuaded  Judas  to  sell  his  Lord,  and  that  prevailed  with 
Demas  to  forsake  the  godly  pilgrim’s  life.  None  can  tell  of  the  mischief 
that  she  doth.  She  makes  variance  betwixt  rulers  and  subjects,  betwixt 


THE  LAND  OF  BEULAH  REACHED. 


353 


parents  and  children,  betwixt  neighbour  and  neighbour,  betwixt  a man  and 
his  wife,  betwixt  a man  and  himself,  betwixt  the  flesh  and  the  heart. 
Wherefore,  good  Master  Stead-fast,  be  as  your  name  is,  and  when  you 
have  done  all,  stand. 

At  this  discourse  there  was  among  the  pilgrims  a mixture  of  joy  and 
trembling;  but  at  length  they  brake  out,  and  sang: 


“What  danger  is  the  pilgrim  in! 

How  many  are  his  foes! 

How  many  ways  there  are  to  sin 
No  living  mortal  knows. 

“ Some  of  the  ditch  shy  are,  yet  can 
Lie  tumbling  in  the  mire; 

Some,  though  they  shun  the  frying-pan, 

Do  leap  into  the  fire.” 

After  this,  I beheld  until  they  were  come  unto  the  Land  of  Beulah, 
where  the  sun  shineth  night  and  day.  Here,  because  they  were  weary, 
they  betook  themselves  awhile  to  rest.  And  because  this  country  was 
common  for  pilgrims,  and  because  the  orchards  and  vineyards  that  were 
here  belong  to  the  King  of  the  Celestial  Country,  therefore  they  were 
licensed  to  make  bold  with  any  of  His  things.  But  a little  while  soon 
refreshed  them  here;  for  the  bells  did  so  ring,  and  the  trumpets  continually 
sound  so  melodiously,  that  they  could  not  sleep;  and  yet  they  received  as 
much  refreshing  as  if  they  had  slept  their  sleep  never  so  soundly.  Here 
also  the  noise  of  them  that  walked  in  the  streets  was,  “More  pilgrims  are 
come  to  town!”  And  another  would  answer,  saying,  “And  so  many  went 
over  the  water,  and  were  let  in  at  the  golden  gates,  to-day!”  They  would 
cry  again,  “There  is  now  a legion  of  Shining  Ones  just  come  to  town,  by 
which  we  know  that  there  are  more  pilgrims  upon  the  road ; for  here  they 
come  to  wait  for  them,  and  comfort  them  after  all  their  sorrow!”  Then  the 
pilgrims  got  up,  and  walked  to  and  fro.  But  how  were  their  ears  now  filled 
with  heavenly  voices,  and  their  eyes  delighted  with  celestial  visions!  In 
this  land  they  heard  nothing,  saw  nothing,  felt  nothing,  smelt  nothing, 
tasted  nothing,  that  was  offensive  to  their  stomach  or  mind; 
only  when  they  tasted  of  the  water  of  the  river  over  which  Death  bitter 
they  were  to  go,  they  thought  that  it  tasted  a little  bitterish  to  but  sweet  to 
the  palate,  but  it  proved  sweeter  when  it  was  down.  the  soul. 


354 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


In  this  place  there  was  a record  kept  of  the  names  of  them  that  had  been 
pilgrims  of  old,  and  a history  of  all  the  famous  acts  that  they  had  done. 
It  was  here  also  much  discoursed,  how  the  river  to  some  had  had  its 
flowings,  and  what  ebbings  it  had  had  while  others  have  gone  over.  It  has 
been  in  a manner  dry  for  some,  while  it  has  overflowed  its  banks  for 
others. 

In  this  place,  the  children  of  the  town  would  go  into  the  King’s  gardens, 
and  gather  nosegays  for  the  pilgrims,  and  bring  them  to  them  with  much 
affection.  Here  also  grew  camphire,  with  spikenard,  and  saffron,  calamus, 
and  cinnamon,  with  all  the  trees  of  frankincense,  myrrh,  and  aloes,  with  all 
chief  spices.  With  these  the  pilgrims’  chambers  were  perfumed  while  they 
stayed  here;  and  with  these  were  their  bodies  anointed,  to  prepare  them  to 
go  over  the  river,  when  the  time  appointed  was  come. 

Now,  while  they  lay  here,  and  waited  for  the  good  hour,  there  was  a 
noise  in  the  town  that  there  was  a post  come  from  the  Celestial  City  with 
matter  of  great  importance  to  one  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian  the 
pilgrim.  So  inquiry  was  made  for  her,  and  the  house  was  found  out  where 
she  was.  So  the  post  presented  her  with  a letter;  the  contents  whereof 
were,  “Hail,  good  woman!  I bring  thee  tidings  that  the  Master  calleth  for 
thee,  and  expecteth  that  thou  shouldest  stand  in  His  presence,  in  clothes  of 
immortality,  within  these  ten  days.’' 

When  he  had  read  this  letter  to  her,  he  gave  her  therewith  a sure  token 
that  he  was  a true  messenger,  and  was  come  to  bid  her  make  haste  to  be 
gone.  The  token  was  an  arrow,  with  a point  sharpened  with  love,  let 
easily  into  her  heart,  which  by  degrees  wrought  so  effectually  with  her,  that 
at  the  time  appointed  she  must  be  gone. 

When  Christiana  saw  that  her  time  was  come,  and  that  she 
was  the  first  of  this  company  that  was  to  go  over,  she  called 
for  Mr.  Great-heart,  her  guide,  and  told  him  how  matters  were. 
So  he  told  her  he  was  heartily  glad  of  the  news,  and  could 
have  been  glad  had  the  post  come  for  him.  Then  she  bid  that 
he  should  give  advice  how  all  things  should  be  prepared  for 
So  he  told  her,  saying,  “Thus  and  thus  it  must  be;  and  we 
that  survive  will  accompany  you  to  the  river-side.” 

Then  she  called  for  her  children,  and  gave  them  her  blessing,  and  told 
them  that  she  yet  read  with  comfort  the  mark  that  was  set  in  their  fore- 
heads, and  was  glad  to  see  them  with  her  there,  and  that  they  had  kept 


How  welcome 
is  death  to 
them  that 
have  nothing 
to  do  but  to 
die. 


her  journey. 


CHRISTIANA  PREPARES  TO  CROSS  THE  RIVER  OF  DEATH. 


355 


their  garments  so  white.  Lastly,  she  bequeathed  to  the  poor  that  little  she 
had,  and  commanded  her  sons  and  her  daughters  to  be  ready  against  the 
messenger  should  come  for  them. 

When  she  had  spoken  these  words  to  her  guide  and  to  her  children,  she 
called  for  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth,  and  said  unto  him,  “Sir,  you  have  in  all 
places  shown  yourself  true-hearted.  Be  faithful  unto  death,  and  my  King 
will  give  you  a crown  of  life.  (Rev.  ii.  io.)  I would  also  entreat  you  to 
have  an  eye  to  my  children;  and  if  at  any  time  you  see  them  faint,  speak 
comfortably  to  them.  For  my  daughters,  my  sons’  wives,  they  have  been 
faithful ; and  a fulfilling  of  the  promise  upon  them  will  be  their  end.”  But 
she  gave  Mr.  Stand-fast  a ring. 

Then  she  called  for  old  Mr.  Honest,  and  said  of  him,  “Behold  an 
Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile.”  (John  i.  47.) 

Then  said  he,  “ I wish  you  a fair  day  when  you  set  out  for  Mount  Zion, 
and  shall  be  glad  to  see  that  you  go  over  the  river  dryshod.” 

But  she  answered,  “Come  wet,  come  dry,  I long  to  be  gone;  for,  how- 
ever the  weather  is  in  my  journey,  I shall  have  time  enough  when  I come 
there  to  sit  down  and  rest  me  and  dry  me.” 

Then  came  in  that  good  man,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt,  to  see  her.  So  she 
said  to  him,  “Thy  travel  hitherto  has  been  with  difficulty;  but  that  will 
make  thy  rest  the  sweeter.  But  watch  and  be  ready;  for,  at  an  hour  when 
you  think  not,  the  messenger  may  come.” 

After  him  came  in  Mr.  Despondency  and  his  daughter  Much-afraid ; to 
whom  she  said,  “You  ought  with  thankfulness  for  ever  to  remember  your 
deliverance  from  the  hands  of  Giant  Despair  and  out  of  Doubting  Castle. 
The  effect  of  that  mercy  is  that  you  are  brought  with  safety  hither.  Be  ye 
watchful,  and  cast  away  fear;  be  sober,  and  hope  to  the  end." 

Then  she  said  to  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  “Thou  wast  delivered  from  the  mouth 
of  Giant  Slay-good,  that  thou  mightest  live  in  the  light  of  the  living  for 
ever,  and  see  thy  King  with  comfort.  Only  I advise  thee  to  repent  thee  of 
thy  aptness  to  fear  and  doubt  of  His  goodness,  before  He  sends  for  thee; 
lest  thou  shouldest,  when  He  comes,  be  forced  to  stand  before  Him  for  that 
fault  with  blushing.” 

Now,  the  day  drew  on  that  Christiana  must  be  gone.  So  the  road  was 
full  of  people  to  see  her  take  her  journey.  But,  behold,  all  the  banks 
beyond  the  river  were  full  of  horses  and  chariots,  which  were  come  down 
from  above  to  accompany  her  to  the  City  gate.  So  she  came  forth  and 


356 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


entered  the  river,  with  a beckon  of  farewell  to  those  that  followed  her  to 
the  river-side.  The  last  words  that  she  was  heard  to  say  were,  “ I come, 
Lord,  to  be  with  Thee,  and  bless  Thee!” 

So  her  children  and  friends  returned  to  their  place,  for  that  those  that 
waited  for  Christiana  had  carried  her  out  of  their  sight.  So  she  went  and 
called,  and  entered  in  at  the  gate  with  all  the  ceremonies  of  joy  that  her 
husband  Christian  had  done  before  her.  At  her  departure  her  children 
wept.  But  Mr.  Great-heart  and  Mr.  Valiant  played  upon  the  well-tuned 
cymbal  and  harp  for  joy.  So  all  departed  to  their  respective  places. 

In  process  of  time,  there  came  a post  to  the  town  again,  and  his  business 
was  with  Mr.  Ready-to-halt.  So  he  inquired  him  out,  and  said  to  him,  “I 
am  come  to  thee  from  Him  whom  thou  hast  loved  and  followed,  though 
upon  crutches;  and  my  message  is  to  tell  thee,  that  He  expects  thee  at  His 
table  to  sup  with  Him  in  His  kingdom,  the  next  day  after  Easter;  where- 
fore prepare  thyself  for  this  journey.”  Then  he  also  gave  him  a token  that 
he  was  a true  messenger,  saying,  “I  have  broken  thy  golden  bowl,  and 
loosed  thy  silver  cord.”  (Eccles.  xii.  6.) 

After  this,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  called  for  his  fellow  pilgrims,  and  told  them, 
saying,  “ I am  sent  for,  and  God  shall  surely  visit  you  also.”  So  he  desired 
Mr.  Valiant  to  make  his  will.  And  because  he  had  nothing  to  bequeath  to 
them  that  should  survive  him  but  his  crutches  and  his  good  wishes,  there- 
fore thus  he  said:  “These  crutches  I bequeath  to  my  son  that  shall  tread  in 
my  steps,  with  a hundred  warm  wishes  that  he  may  prove  better  than  I have 
done.”  Then  he  thanked  Mr.  Great-heart  for  his  conduct  and  kindness, 
and  so  addressed  himself  to  his  journey.  When  he  came  to  the  brink  of 
the  river,  he  said,  “ Now  I shall  have  no  more  need  of  these  crutches,  since 
yonder  are  chariots  and  horses  for  me  to  ride  on."  The  last  words  he  was 
heard  to  say  were,  “Welcome  life!”  So  he  went  his  way. 

After  this,  Mr.  Eeeble-mind  had  tidings  brought  him,  that  the  post 
sounded  his  horn  at  his  chamber-door.  Then  he  came  in,  and  told  him, 
saying,  “ I am  come  to  tell  thee  that  thy  Master  has  need  of  thee,  and  that 
in  a very  little  time  thou  must  behold  His  face  in  brightness.  And  take 
this  as  a token  of  the  truth  of  my  message:  ‘Those  that  look  out  at  the 
windows  shall  be  darkened.”'  (Eceles.  xii.  3.)  Then  Mr.  Eeeble-mind 
called  for  his  friends,  and  told  them  what  errand  had  been  brought  unto 
him,  and  what  token  he  had  received  of  the  truth  of  the  message.  Then 
he  said,  “Since  I have  nothing  to  bequeath  to  any,  to  what  purpose  should 


‘So  she  came  forth  and  entered  the  river. 


THE  FINAL  SUMMONS. 


359 


I make  a will?  As  for  my  feeble  mind,  that  I will  leave  behind  me,  for 
that  I shall  have  no  need  of  in  the  place  whither  I go,  nor  is  it  worth 
bestowing  upon  the  poorest  pilgrim:  wherefore,  when  I am  gone,  I desire 
that  you,  Mr.  Valiant,  would  bury  it  in  a dunghill.”  This  done,  and  the 
day  being  come  on  which  he  was  to  depart,  he  entered  the  river  as  the  rest. 
His  last  words  were,  “ Hold  out,  faith  and  patience!”  So  he  went  over  to 
the  other  side. 

When  days  had  many  of  them  passed  away,  Mr.  Despondency  was  sent 
for;  for  a post  was  come,  and  brought  this  message  to  him:  “Trembling 
man,  these  are  to  summon  thee  to  be  ready  with  thy  King  by  the  next 
Lord’s  day,  to  shout  for  joy  for  thy  deliverance  from  all  thy  doubtings. 
And,”  said  the  messenger,  “that  my  message  is  true,  take  this  for  a proof.” 
So  he  gave  him  the  grasshopper  to  be  a burden  unto  him.  (Eccles.  xii.  5.) 

Now,  Mr.  Despondency’s  daughter,  whose  name  was  Much-afraid,  said, 
when  she  heard  what  was  done,  that  she  would  go  with  her  father.  Then 
Mr.  Despondency  said  to  his  friends,  “Myself  and  my  daughter,  you  know 
what  we  have  been,  and  how  troublesomely  we  have  behaved  ourselves  in 
every  company.  My  will  and  my  daughter’s  is,  that  our  desponds  and 
slavish  fears  be  by  no  man  received,  from  the  day  of  our  departure  for 
ever;  for  I know  that  after  my  death  they  will  offer  themselves  to  others. 
For,  to  be  plain  with  you,  they  are  ghosts  the  which  we  entertained  when 
we  first  began  to  be  pilgrims,  and  could  never  shake  them  off  after;  and 
they  will  walk  about  and  seek  entertainment  of  the  pilgrims;  but,  for  our 
sakes,  shut  ye  the  doors  upon  them.”  When  the  time  was  come  for  them 
to  depart,  they  went  to  the  brink  of  the  river.  The  last  words  of  Mr. 
Despondency  were,  “Farewell,  night!  welcome,  day!”  His  daughter  went 
through  the  river  singing,  but  none  could  understand  what  she  said. 

Then  it  came  to  pass  awhile  after,  that  there  was  a post  in  the  town  that 
inquired  for  Mr.  Honest.  So  he  came  to  his  house  where  he  was,  and 
delivered  to  his  hand  these  lines:  “Thou  art  commanded  to  be  ready 
against  this  day  seven-night,  to  present  thyself  before  thy  Lord  at  His 
Father’s  house.  And  for  a token  that  my  message  is  true,  ‘All  thy 
daughters  of  music  shall  be  brought  low.”’  (Eccles.  xii.  4.)  Then  Mr. 
Honest  called  for  his  friends,  anti  said  unto  them,  “I  die,  but  shall  make  no 
will.  As  for  my  honesty,  it  shall  go  with  me:  let  them  that  come  after  me 
be  told  this.”  When  the  day  that  he  was  to  be  gone  was  come,  he 
addressed  himself  to  go  over  the  river.  Now,  the  river  at  that  time  over- 


36° 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


flowed  its  banks  in  some  places;  but  Mr.  Honest  in  his  lifetime  had  spoken 
to  one  Good-conscience  to  meet  him  there ; the  which  also  he  did,  and  lent 
him  his  hand,  and  so  helped  him  over.  The  last  words  of  Mr.  Honest 
were,  “Grace  reigns!”  So  he  left  the  world. 

After  this,  it  was  noised  abroad  that  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth  was  taken  with 
a summons  by  the  same  post  as  the  other,  and  had  this  for  a token  that  the 
summons  was  true,  that  his  pitcher  was  broken  at  the  fountain.  (Eccles. 
xii.  6.)  When  he  understood  it,  he  called  for  his  friends,  and  told  them  of 
it.  Then  said  he,  “I  am  going  to  my  Father’s;  and  though  with  great 
difficulty  I am  got  hither,  yet  now  I do  not  repent  me  of  all  the  trouble  I 
have  been  at  to  arrive  where  I am.  My  sword  I give  to  him  that  shall 
succeed  me  in  my  pilgrimage,  and  my  courage  and  skill  to  him  that  can 
get  it.  My  marks  and  scars  I carry  with  me,  to  be  a witness  for  me  that  I 
have  fought  His  battles  who  now  will  be  my  rewarder.''  When  the  day 
that  he  must  go  hence  was  come,  many  accompanied  him  to  the  river-side, 
into  which  as  he  went  he  said,  “Death,  where  is  thy  sting?"  And,  as  he 
went  down  deeper,  he  said,  “Grave,  where  is  thy  victory?”  (I.  Cor.  xv.  55.) 
So  he  passed  over,  and  all  the  trumpets  sounded  for  him  on  the  other  side. 

Then  there  came  forth  a summons  for  Mr.  Stand-fast  (this  Mr.  Stand-fast 
was  he  whom  the  pilgrims  found  upon  his  knees  in  the  Enchanted  Ground), 
for  the  post  brought  it  him  open  in  his  hands;  the  contents  thereof  were, 
that  he  must  prepare  for  a change  of  life,  for  his  Master  was  not  willing 
that  he  should  be  so  far  from  Him  any  longer.  At  this  Mr.  Stand-fast  was 
put  into  a muse. 

“Nay,”  said  the  messenger,  “you  need  not  doubt  the  truth  of  my 
message;  for  here  is  a token  of  the  truth  thereof:  ‘Thy  wheel  is  broken  at 
the  cistern.’  ” (Eccles.  xii.  6.) 

Then  he  called  to  him  Mr.  Great-heart,  who  was  their  guide,  and  said 
unto  him,  “Sir,  although  it  was  not  my  hap  to  be  much  in  your  good  com- 
pany in  the  days  of  my  pilgrimage,  yet,  since  the  time  I knew  you,  you 
have  been  profitable  to  me.  When  I came  from  home,  1 left  behind  me  a 
wife  and  five  small  children:  let  me  entreat  you  at  your  return  (for  1 know 
that  you  will  go  and  return  to  your  master’s  house,  in  hopes  that  you  may 
yet  be  a conductor  to  more  of  the  holy  pilgrims),  that  you  send  to  my 
family,  and  let  them  be  acquainted  with  all  that  hath  or  shall  happen  unto 
me.  Tell  them  moreover  of  my  happy  arrival  to  this  place,  and  of  the 
present  [and]  late  blessed  condition  that  1 am  in.  Tell  them  also  of 


THE  GLORIOUS  END  OF  THE  PILGRIMAGE. 


361 


Christian  and  Christiana  his  wife,  and  how  she  and  her  children  came  after 
her  husband.  Tell  them  also  what  a happy  end  she  made,  and  whither  she 
is  gone.  I have  little  or  nothing  to  send  to  my  family,  unless  it  be  my 
prayers  and  tears  for  them  of  which  it  will  suffice  that  you  acquaint  them, 
if  peradventure  they  may  prevail.’’ 

When  Mr.  Stand-fast  had  thus  set  things  in  order,  and  the  time  being 
come  for  him  to  haste  him  away,  he  also  went  down  to  the  river.  Now, 
there  was  a great  calm  at  that  time  in  the  river;  wherefore  Mr.  Stand-fast, 
when  he  was  about  half-way  in,  stood  awhile,  and  talked  to  his  companions 
that  had  waited  upon  him  thither.  And  he  said,  “This  river  has  been  a 
terror  to  many;  yea,  the  thoughts  of  it  have  also  frighted  me;  but  now 
methinks  I stand  easy:  my  foot  is  fixed  upon  that  on  which  the  feet  of  the 
priests  that  bare  the  ark  of  the  covenant  stood  while  Israel  went  over 
Jordan.  (Josh.  iii.  17.)  The  waters,  indeed,  are  to  the  palate  bitter,  and  to 
the  stomach  cold;  yet  the  thought  of  what  I am  going  to,  and  of  the 
conduct  that  waits  for  me  on  the  other  side,  doth  lie  as  a glowing  coal  at 
my  heart.  I see  myself  now  at  the  end  of  my  journey;  my  toilsome  days 
are  ended.  I am  going  to  see  that  head  which  was  crowned  with  thorns, 
and  that  face  which  was  spit  upon  for  me.  I have  formerly  lived  by  hear- 
say and  faith;  but  now  I go  where  I shall  live  by  sight,  and  shall  be  with 
Him  in  whose  company  I delight  myself.  I have  loved  to  hear  my  Lord 
spoken  of;  and  wherever  I have  seen  the  print  of  His  shoe  in  the  earth, 
there  I have  coveted  to  set  my  foot  too.  His  name  has  been  to  me  as  a 
civet-box;  yea,  sweeter  than  all  perfumes.  His  voice  to  me  has  been  most 
sweet,  and  His  countenance  I have  more  desired  than  they  that  have  most 
desired  the  light  of  the  sun.  His  Word  I did  use  to  gather  for  my  food, 
and  for  antidotes  against  my  faintings.  He  has  held  me,  and  hath  kept  me 
from  mine  iniquities;  yea,  my  steps  hath  He  strengthened  in  His  way.” 

Now,  while  he  was  thus  in  discourse,  his  countenance  changed,  his  strong 
man  bowed  under  him;  and,  after  he  had  said,  “Take  me,  for  I come  unto 
Thee!”  he  ceased  to  be  seen  of  them. 

But  glorious  it  was  to  see  how  the  open  region  was  filled  with  horses 
and  chariots,  with  trumpeters  and  pipers,  with  singers  and  players  on 
stringed  instruments,  to  welcome  the  pilgrims  as  they  went  up,  and  followed 
one  another  in  at  the  beautiful  gate  of  the  City. 

As  for  Christian’s  children,  the  four  boys  that  Christiana  brought  with 
her,  with  their  wives  and  children,  I did  not  stay  where  I was  till  they  were 


362 


THE  PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS. 


gone  over.  Also,  since  I came  away,  I heard  one  say  that  they  were  yet 
alive*,  and  so  would  be  for  the  increase  of  the  Church  in  that  place  where 
they  were  for  a time. 

Shall  it  be  my  lot  to  go  that  way  again,  I may  give  those  that  desire  it  an 
account  of  what  I here  am  silent  about:  meantime  I bid  my  reader 

Adieu. 


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